The rules of reporting
by Baron Bee
Summary: Dispatched to the future, Lois Lane is faced with a story she can't write for fear of messing with the red and blue blur's destiny. But now she knows how important he will become, where does that leave a copy-boy like Clark Kent?
1. Chapter 1

Lois could count on one hand the reasons a reporter would bin a Pulitzer-size story. Twenty minutes into the biggest scoop of her life, she realised there was a new reason to add to the list. Time travel. It sucked.

At first, she had no idea she had gone so far off the map. When she had opened her eyes she had only been able to roll onto her side and disgorge herself of the little she'd eaten that day. Moving even those few centimetres had created a rumble of pain to roll down from her skull so she sucked in a deep breath. Tess Mercer had clocked her harder than she'd been hit in a long time, she thought. Jimmy would be able to take some incriminating snaps and then she'd hit the bitch with an assault charge. Assuming Tess didn't sack her first. Discovering evidence of your boss murdering someone was a sure-fire way to find yourself out of work.

Musing on the rather dramatic end to a chequered employer-employee relationship, Lois raised her eyes from the floor below her. Instead of being confronted with the crowded bullpen, she saw she was in the centre of a large circular dias. Beyond its edge was a row of three white consoles. Behind one was a man wearing a dark green mask. Looking to her left and right, she saw she was encircled by an array of men and women wearing loud costumes.

She hadn't suspected this move, but it made some sense. Tess had clearly had her committed to silence her. Though she didn't think the patients were usually allowed to express their fantasies so creatively outside of sessions by wearing spandex.

"You are not quite who we were expecting," the man with the green mask said.

"Don't you recognise her?!" Lois gingerly made it to a kneeling position and tried to identify who had spoken. A young red-haired man was looking at her with an ecstatic expression on his face. His enthusiasm was making her a little nervous but she was still struggling to summon the energy to string a whole sentence together.

"Garth…" A blonde woman beside him said uneasily.

"Imra, It's Lois Lane herself! Drop the field," And he darted towards her suddenly. Lois got to her feet quickly and raised her hands in an attempt to maintain some distance. "This is amazing! You are a legend Lois!"

"Whoa…I don't…I don't know who you are. But I am not supposed to be here."

"That is certainly true," a third man with dark hair said as he walked onto the dias, a little behind the red-haired man. He put a hand on Garth's arm and shook his head at him before looking at Lois. "Are you Lois Lane?"

"Who wants to know?" Lois said weakly, despairing at herself for uttering something so transparent. She'd have to be a little sharper than that if she wanted to extricate herself from this mess.

"We are the Legion. I am afraid you are very far from home but we are not a threat to you." Lois nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but knowing she should probably agree. "You are Lois Lane, aren't you?" Then Garth burst out again with a jumble of words. Lois recognised the words but she was having trouble understanding them, though there was a name mentioned that she recognised. Why couldn't she grasp the sense in it? The blonde woman, Imra, joined the other two on the dias and rubbed the side of her head as if the puppy-like boy was giving her a migraine.

"Garth, you are being unforgivably reckless." Garth dropped his eyes, embarrassed at the rebuke and Lois would have felt bad for the kid if he wasn't coming across a little stalker. "Rokk, I suggest we both speak to Lois in another room. Clearly things have not happened as we expected. But Lois is understandably alarmed by this situation." Rokk nodded and held out a hand to Lois, his brown eyes capturing hers and said softly,

"Ms Lane, we must talk. Would you like to sit down and perhaps have a drink? You must be feeling unwell after your journey." Everyone was talking to her and looking at her as if she was the crazy one. But these people dressed and spoke like no one she had ever laid eyes on. How had she ended up here? How was she going to get back? Jimmy had been closing in on Chloe's location, what if she missed his call? She suddenly realised that not only did she not know where she was, she didn't know when it was.

"What time is it? It's just, I was expecting this really important call and…" she tailed off as she registered the strange expressions on the faces of the people in front of her. Pity?

"Come with us, and we will discuss this further," Rokk repeated. She wavered for a moment but then relented. She didn't have enough information to know how to respond yet so for the time being she would play along. Taking Rokk's hand, she felt a little spark of static sting her skin before her hand settled neatly in his. She glanced up, evaluating his face quickly. For some reason, he reminded her of Clark who would also sometimes look at her with the same grave sincerity.

Supporting her then under the elbow, Rokk lead her off the dias, with the woman following behind. Lois looked quickly round at the rest of the large room and saw its walls were unmarked but the domed ceiling was decorated with a strange three dimensional light sculpture that kept fluctuating into new glittering ribbons. A dark red beam of light was winding its way through the centre as she glanced down again, a trickle of blood amongst the dazzling petroleum colours. It disconcerted her more than anything else she'd seen so far.

They continued past the other dozen or so loudly attired people who watched her departure silently, and approached a large set of doors which opened automatically before them. The corridor beyond was also white and the light seemed to seep out from the walls in a way that started to concern her. She had seen her share of fancy buildings but she had never seen materials like these used in construction. The floor looked like marble but when her foot came down on it, it seemed to give ever so slightly, as if cushioning her every step. Her alarm was starting to accelerate again until the woman approached her elbow and said with a gentle smile,

"I know this all seems very strange Lois but this building uses cutting edge technology you may not have come across before. The designers behind the institute had a very unique vision."

"Institute? What Institute?" Lois said.

"It may be wise to…" Imra began but Lois cut her off sharply.

"Tell. Me. Or I stop being so co-operative and start screaming this place down." Lois knew she wasn't strong enough yet to tussle with two strangers but she could still raise hell if she needed to. Her two companions looked at each other for several long moments before the blonde woman nodded.

"This will be difficult to accept but you are in the Institute of Time."

"The Institute of what?"

"Time. You are in the 31st Century Lois."

Lois stared at the apparently earnest young woman in disbelief. Then she burst out laughing.

"For a second…whoa, you guys are something else! I'm sorry to burst your bubble but I've consigned my tabloid days to the past. Whatever complicated…" She waved her hand at their surroundings, "…scam you have set up, it's not going to wash. Rule of reporting number four, if it's too weird to be true, it probably is. Honestly, did you really think this was going to…" But she realised that the two strangers were only looking at each other with resigned expressions.

"Whatever his reason for sending her here, I hope it was a good one," the man sighed.

"Wait. Who's he?"

"A question that will be of significant interest to you but that we cannot answer. Lois, you must understand, any knowledge you acquire here threatens to do further damage to this timeline. Our ally…"

"…is already known to you Lois. He is in your thoughts. You spoke to him only a few hours ago. From your perspective at least."

"Oh crap. The red-blue blur?" They frowned at that name but then the woman nodded.

"That is what you know him as. We know him by his real name."

"Then that means…"

"Yes."

"Oh crap. You're for real." Her alarm was suddenly swept to one side as she realised she was in the middle of the biggest story she'd come across her entire career. The red-blue blur was in contact with people from the future. She was in the future. A thousand years in the future!

It was going to be a difficult sell, but if she could just persuade the editor she wasn't completely out of her tree, she would have the hottest story in Metropolis. It might even buy her some time before Tess made a move against her. Then she recognised that the Rokk guy had said something worrying. "Wait, damage the timeline? What are you saying? Further damage?"

"Ms Lane, you cannot ever repeat anything you learn here. The consequences could be grave indeed." There was the worrying face and the strange words again, and she had a feeling this was going to be the bad news part of the talk.

"The individual you know as the red-blue blur has a significant role to play in the eventual creation of this reality Lois. And you…" The woman looked at her companion uneasily before looking once again at Lois. "You have a significant role to play in his future. Through your role as a reporter," she added. Lois felt a little disappointed there that Imra hadn't been about to say as something other than a journalist. But the idea that the blur had an important destiny and she would be connected to that made her heart feel light in her chest. And it felt right. She knew he was something special and she knew she could help him. How she could be so certain about a man she had never actually met confused her but her certainty about this man was too big for her to ignore. "It is essential that others do not learn these things before they should. He is not invulnerable." Lois felt her stomach shrink unpleasantly, he had admitted as much to her only a few hours ago, or a few hundred years ago, whichever. Then there was the ugly red thread of light she had seen in the ceiling of the room behind them.

"Is he in trouble?" She said, her voice emerging only as a whisper.

"We are all in trouble without him," Rokk said, his voice betraying fear for the first time. "He did not die as we predicted but instead something we had not foreseen is beginning to impact on this timeline." He shook his head. "Even now, the mechanics of time are a mystery to all but the most elevated minds Lois, so most of your questions about this we are not able to answer. We can tell you that whilst reality will bend to small alterations and absorb them without the future being radically affected, allowing for time travel to exist at all, some changes de-stabilise things too severely. Your arrival has begun to escalate an already perilous situation."

"How perilous are we talking?"

"The death of billions."

And that was when she had officially nixed the story. Time travel. It sucked.


	2. Chapter 2

Off the record. The phrase had always made her pulse quicken. Any reporter of worth recognised it wasn't a dead-end, it was just the first shaky step towards a possibly first-class story. And she loved a challenge, although growing up under the General's regime, she hadn't had much choice. She had always wondered what had made him decide to push her harder than any marine but swaddle Lucy as long as he could. Whatever his reasons, he had taught her some interesting lessons about herself. She thrived under pressure and she needed to be right in the mix. It made the Planet the perfect career for her, if she could keep her job, and it also made Smallville the only small town in America she thought she'd ever be able to stomach.

It had it's downsides of course, this affinity for chaos. Plaid on a stick had pointed out in one of his more observant moments that she was the most mugged woman in Metropolis. She also seemed to have had a disproportionate number of dates with psychos.

She mulled over the new nickname before rejecting it. Corn on a stick? He wasn't very stick-like of course. Buttered corn? Definitely not.

Smallville it would have to remain. She only wished she could drop the name, it came so easily off her tongue and she was conscious of how much she exposed herself every time she used it. She had never used pet names with a boyfriend, the very thought made her gag, but what was Smallville if it wasn't just her own take on hunny-bun or sweetheart, or, worst of all, darling?

But for once thoughts of her awkward feelings towards him were a welcome distraction. Every thing the Legionnaires had told her had to stay off the record. This time it didn't get her salivating at the idea of chasing down the story from another angle.

This time, it terrified her. Her mind was racing over all the questions she wanted to fire at the two heroes in front of her but every time she thought about knowing the answers, her stomach churned even faster. How much knowledge was too much? Would they wipe her mind if she stumbled across something she wasn't supposed to? Usually she discounted the paranoid thought that someone was reading her mind as a silly fantasy. But she felt pretty sure that the blonde woman, who had now formally introduced herself as Imra, was some kind of mind-reader.

It fit with some of the long silent exchanges they gave each other, and the incriminating phrase, 'in your thoughts'. That and whenever she felt like she was going to throw up her drink, Imra would smile soothingly at her, as if she could see her feelings written on her face.

Though on balance, the fact she was going green was probably something of a tell.

Her poker face was getting as bad as Milk Dud's.

That one had possibilities. Seemingly harmless but might blow you off your feet. The eating candy part probably ruled it out though. Maybe she should stay away from food entirely. It was a very dangerous road she really couldn't afford to indulge in when she was stuck in the future. Save it for the morning traffic jam she reminded herself.

"Lois, you haven't said anything for five minutes," Imra pointed out.

"I have my moments of quiet reflection," Lois said. "Uh, on occasion. I'm just…" She paused, reluctant to confess her feelings to them. But then who were they ever going to tell? So she sighed and said, "I'm scared."

Rokk steepled his hands together and looked at her directly. "Ms Lane, we understand your fears only too well. But we would not have elected to lay this responsibility at your feet if we did not trust you and your judgement."

"We have faith in you," Imra agreed. "And if our ally decided to send you here, then he must also."

"Yeah, well, I'm still a bit hazy on the whole hows and whys and since you're not going to be forthcoming…?" Rokk shook his head. "That's what I thought. So you were expecting someone else. The kind of someone you either really roll the red carpet out for, or who you break all the big guns out for."

Rokk smiled slightly, "What makes you think we are the 'big guns'?"

"You don't let just anyone have the key to the DeLorean. No? Didn't stand the test of time then? Oh well." Lois pursed her lips. "You were expecting that monster weren't you?" She realised then she couldn't hold her tongue any longer, she needed to know what had happened to Chloe. If the red-blue blur was intending to save her cousin by sending that beast here to the future, and she had come instead, then his plan had gone wrong. He'd admitted he wasn't strong enough to take on his opponent. She clenched her fists hard, fingernails biting into her palms.

When she'd thought the future was scary, she had forgotten that the past was far more terrifying. Was her cousin's future already set? Did they know? Would they tell her? Could she bear it? She stretched her hands out in front of her and saw they were shaking. She had thought the past was fixed, a safe static point she would return to. But it had all already happened. They were all already dead. Everyone she knew was dead. Where was all her cool in a crisis now? Where was big, brave, tough as nails Lois Lane?

"Lois, calm down, please."

"But…!"

"I know. I know," Imra was kneeling before her now, her hands on her shoulders, her eyes brimming with concern. "I knew you would want to know. Rokk checked our records when he got you a drink. You have returned to thoughts of the same two people since you got here. And they did not die following your departure. More than this we cannot say because too much knowledge could be dangerous and the timeline is still in flux." Lois grabbed Imra's arm hard and stared at her.

"Do you swear? God help me, if you're lying to me…I couldn't…I can't…" She covered her mouth as her grief threatened to rise up out of her throat. She swallowed and thought of somewhere safe. The Kent Farm. Nothing, not two meteor showers and numerous meteor infected had managed to wipe that place off the map. It would always be there. Still. Calm.

"It sounds nice," Imra smiled at her. Lois shrugged, vaguely pleased her guess about Imra had been right, and said shakily,

"Yeah, it's better without its tenant." She stood up, Imra detaching herself from her as Lois paced the floor of the blank room. "So, off the record, is there anything else it's safe to tell me?" She ran through a list of the things she wanted to know and realised they wouldn't dare answer them and she didn't dare ask in case they did. "And you really won't tell me how I'm supposed to set things right?"

"We cannot be sure you are supposed to set anything right Lois. Only that your absence is creating problems."

"Presumably the Planet isn't sliding into bankruptcy without me, and much as my family and friends are begrudgingly fond of me, I can't see how my mere presence could make any kind of difference. I'm nothing special," she concluded brusquely. "If I can help the red-blue blur through my job then so could any other half-smart reporter. Hell, Clark Kent could probably do a better job nowadays, though I'd never tell the milk-maid that." She shook her head at their expressions. "Look, this isn't false modesty, this is me being realistic."

"Trust us, as we trust you."

"And trust in yourself," Imra added.

"Yeah, yeah, easy to say when you can read my Obit for the digested highlights. They gloss over the bad parts in those you know," Lois grumbled. Then she perked up. "One thing you could tell me, since you've met the guy and it doesn't objectively matter?"

"Yes?"

"Is he as hot as he sounds on the phone?"


	3. Chapter 3

Lois staggered as the bullpen materialised around her and reached out for something to steady her. Her hands smacked down on to a desk. The room was dark, the only illumination the dull orange streetlight creeping through the basement windows and the screensavers on the computers around her. Despite that, she knew exactly whose desk she was leaning on, and the nameplate only spelled it out for her. Clark Kent, the inescapable.

They had put her back exactly where she'd left but it seemed optimistic to hope nothing would have changed. She glanced at her hands, surprised by the film of dust over them. Smallville was a real stickler for order and cleanliness, she wasn't sure how he had managed to let any mess build up. Her eyes jumped to her own desk and she was surprised to see it covered with stacked files. Her computer and all her own materials were gone.

She picked up a discarded copy of the Planet sticking out of one of the folders. A glance at the date said it was from two days after she had left. The main image on the page was of a knot of firefighters tackling a large blaze. It was a great shot, really capturing the ferocity of the fire but looking at the credit she was sad to see Jimmy hadn't been the one to take it.

The Planet hadn't quite been the same without him and she was still hoping he'd take photography up again.

Reluctantly she looked at the headline, which proclaimed in very large print, '78 CONFIRMED DEAD'. Her heart sank. It was much worse than she'd thought, the monster that had kidnapped Chloe twice had returned to Metropolis and created carnage. She scanned the text for more details and turned to the second page of the paper. There, beneath a story on a FEMA press conference, was the smaller headline, 'PLANET REPORTER STILL MISSING', followed by the lead, 'Daily Planet journalist, Lois Lane, was still missing last night as recovery teams continued to…'.

Hah. That definitely was not a good thing.

It was one of her own hard-earned lessons. Reporters should never BE the news. Unless they were winning a Pulitzer or writing schlocky confessionals for the weekend magazine supplement. Though the former seemed impossibly remote and she'd rather milk one of the Kents' cows than do the latter.

She had started to slide dangerously close to making the news rather than reporting it only a few months ago and it had taken her friend nearly getting killed for her to finally accept what a monumentally bad idea it was.

And now she'd made page two with her disappearance.

Things were going to be a lot more complicated now. Though she was still avoiding finding out when exactly now was. Biting her lip, she searched around the office for a recent paper. Snatching a fresh looking copy up she peered closely at the date. And groaned.

They hadn't lied. It was two whole months later. The Legionnaires had tried to explain that the most stable point in the timeline was eight weeks after her disappearance but she had half-hoped it was still some Tess-induced delusion. But no, she'd really been in the future and now she was in the slightly less future. She flipped to the sports pages. Before she'd left, she'd asked for some information about the time she was returning to that would confirm she wasn't imagining the whole thing.

There was no denying it now though, the Sharks had sold their star player and the coach had defected to Gotham, making the Superbowl an even dimmer prospect than last year. Metropolis was not having a good few months, she thought glumly.

The slightly less future was looking pretty crappy to her right now and she was tempted to stay in the basement, reading two months of papers for the full story. But she couldn't hide forever, she had to make the call, and really, truly know for sure. Was Chloe really okay?

She sat at Clark's desk, hearing the comforting creak of the chair and reached for his phone. The handset was clean and she propped it under her chin and dialled her cousin's cell phone number.

The gap between each ring seemed to stretch further and further, until finally there was a click and the fuzz of background nose. And then a hesitant voice.

"Clark?" And it was her voice, and she was really okay. They hadn't lied to her. Lois gave a little laugh, tears appearing in her eyes. "Hello?"

"Chlo, it's me," Lois burst out. "You're okay, you're okay!"

"Lois?"

"Yes, I need to see you right now! I can't explain stuff now, or ever, but…Chlo?" Lois realised amidst all her excited babble that her cousin was weeping on the other end of line. "Hey, cuz, what's wrong?" Chloe didn't say anything for a few moments and then drew in a sharp breath.

"I'm sorry Lois, it's just been…I thought we'd never find you."

"I'm coming over. You're by yourself right?"

"Yes. I'm alone."

"Then I'm catching a cab, if I can find one prepared to drive all the way out to…"

"I'm not above the Talon anymore. I'm in Metropolis. Let me give you the address." Twenty minutes later, Lois was stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of the old watchtower. Chloe was the first step in making her reappearance public knowledge. Her father and sister could only be contacted once she had her story in place, otherwise the questions would be impossible. Making them wait was an uncomfortable feeling but the Legionnaires had been clear she had to conceal her trip to the future from everyone. She wondered if they thought she was dead. Had they given up on her? Had they buried an empty casket?

She shuddered at the thought of a headstone somewhere bearing her name. Though if the world really thought she was dead, few people would be able to relate as well as her little cousin. She just hoped she hadn't caused them too much pain. For a brief moment, she felt a stab of anger pierce her faith in the red-blue blur, for placing her loved ones in such a nightmare. She consoled herself with the thought that he probably could never have foreseen how events would unfold.

Though he has a lot of explaining to do, she concluded as she knocked on the door in front of her. But right now, the top priority was seeing Chloe was 100% okay and finding some way to cook up a believable back-from-the-dead story.

The door swung open and Lois was confronted with a painful sight. Her already slight cousin looked haggard and too thin. Her normally glossy hair hung limply to her shoulders and her eyes…her eyes were too wide. Too raw. Then her face lit up with a trembling smile and the old Chloe seemed to be back for a moment. Neither of them said a word as they embraced tightly, Lois all too conscious of the ribs she felt through Chloe's sweater.

"It's really you! I thought I might have dreamed it. Sometimes I dream he…" Chloe broke off and pulled away from Lois. "Where have you been?" Her anguish made the question sound like an accusation and Lois began to feel worried. Chloe had absorbed harder blows than her disappearance before. As sweet and kind as she was, she had a tough core. She always came back. Chloe clearly noticed how her question sounded and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm thinking. Come inside. Did you come straight from seeing the General? Or is he flying here?" Chloe guided her inside the apartment and Lois looked round in wonder at her surroundings.

Chloe might look like she was falling apart but her new place was to die for. The beautiful stained glass window dominated the whole space. Its atmosphere made it distinctly a Sullivan home though. It had the warmth and casual style Lois had never managed to achieve when decorating her own place. Then she clicked. This was the wedding gift! This was the place Jimmy had been so excited about ahead of the wedding. He'd taken the call from the agent at work and sped over there before anyone could put in a claim.

But after the wedding, everything had fallen apart so quickly and Lois had put it all out of her mind. It could only hurt Chloe.

"He told you about this place…you and Jimmy got back together!" Lois gasped. For a moment she was surprised by her own happiness at the idea. She had fought the idea of Mr and Mrs Olsen for so long but now they had their second chance, it all seemed so right. Jimmy had never given up on her, no matter what he might have said and Chloe had been miserable ever since. But Chloe's shaky smile was held together by the thinnest of threads.

This was all wrong. When they'd been together, the merest mention of her boyfriend had made her cousin smile a slow, broad grin. It was the look of a woman who woke up with the man she loved every day.

With a strange detached feeling, she recognised the truth.

Jimmy was above the fold, right there in the headline. He was '78 DEAD'.

He had been the news.


	4. Chapter 4

The questions are everything. A well-phrased question can cause an interviewee to open up. A non-pursued angle can leave a larger, greater story uncovered. An article taken at face-value can ruin a journalist's career, even bring down a paper. You always had the ask the questions. But Lois also knew when to shut up.

No matter what a certain copy-boy might think.

When Chloe poured her heart out to her, Lois kept her counsel and let her cousin unload her pain. She didn't give voice to any of the nagging problems she had with what Chloe was telling her.

Why had she willingly gone to Star City with a serial killer? When had she discovered that he was not just a man, but a monster too, the monster who had tried to eviscerate her husband? But most importantly, what was she hiding from her? Because she knew that Chloe was lying to her. It wasn't a rare experience. Chloe often left out some parts of the story but Lois didn't begrudge her that. Maybe because she had grown up around soldiers who loved to spin a yarn but just as often, would glance away and change the subject swiftly.

In the army you kept secrets for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes it was simply for national security or because others lives depended on it. Loose lips. But sometimes the cost was different. Sometimes it was because you didn't want to see a young girl who idolised you look at you with horror as you described the reality of the combat theatre. Or you wanted to keep her assumption alive that no one died in peace-keeping missions. Then there were the times you couldn't bear to hear the truth spoken out loud again. The shame or guilt or pain was too much and no matter how your eldest daughter begged you, you would never tell her why you had broken down in tears at the dinner table one night when she was only twelve and your wife was long gone.

People who had faced terrible things could keep the most apparently mundane facts to themselves but you might never know what simple truth resonated too powerfully for them to vocalise.

She wasn't so stupid that she didn't notice Chloe and Clark had always kept some things back. They had grown up in Smallville after all, and she'd seen some of the nightmare-ish things they'd grown up with. An army brat learnt when not to push. Friends weren't sources.

That didn't mean she didn't have questions. In the morning, after they had both slept fitfully, Chloe had some of her own, and Lois had to hold on to her resolve not to say anything. The former reporter came at her from every angle and whilst Lois was able to tell her about finding the incriminating video on Tess' desktop, and that she fought with her boss in the bullpen, she did not divulge anything in between her disappearance and when she returned.

Her pretence of ignorance was helped by the fact she didn't know a lot of the answers to her cousin's questions. She still had no idea how she had arrived in the future. She didn't understand why she had been sent there by the red-blue blur. She also knew nothing of what had happened in the last two months. Her show of dumb silence wasn't much of a show.

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?" Chloe said, temporarily at bay, as she spooned some of her soggy cereal into her mouth. Lois was tempted to say something along the lines of, not so fun is it? But she just nodded and finished off her OJ. "Well, you're going to have to say something to your dad and Lucy. They need to know you're okay."

"But I have to have something to tell them first Chlo, if they thought I was lying to them, or I'd let them suffer like this all this time…I can't do that to them." Lois couldn't allow them to doubt her explanation. The Lanes couldn't take any more hits, they were a shaky family unit as it was, and they couldn't afford to suspect she would willingly make them endure that uncertainty. Her cousin nodded thoughtfully

"We'll work something out. They'll be so relieved to have you back they won't look at it too closely."

"It needs to stand up to harder scrutiny than that Chloe. It needs to be a solid gold alibi okay? Just trust me on this. No one can have questions. The story needs to be that there is no story." Chloe was looking at her, clearly trying to hold back another round of questions herself but finally she bit her lip and sighed.

"Whatever your reasons, I know they must be good ones."

"The best."

"Okay. Then there's someone who we might have to call. We need sworn testimony, and I can't hack that. We need someone with a little cash to oil the wheels." Chloe reached for the phone base sitting on the worktop and pressed a speed dial button. Lois was a little surprised because if her cousin was calling who she thought she was, then they were a lot closer than she realised. The phone rang a few times and then a bleary and clearly irritated voice snapped over the speaker,

"Chloe, whatever this is, it had better be important. I've just fallen asleep." Lois wondered whether he'd been painting the town red or running round as the Green Arrow. Had Oliver been hit hard by Jimmy's death as well? Last year he'd hit the sauce pretty hard but then the Green Arrow started to pop up again in print and she thought he'd got a handle on whatever was disturbing him. She probably could have been a better friend to him since they had broken up and he had at least made some effort to support her.

Chloe seemed unfazed by Oliver's response and replied with a broad smile on her face.

"I've got an old friend here who you'll be glad to hear from Oliver."

There was a pause before a wary voice said, "Clark?"

Lois inhaled sharply and felt a sudden dull ache in her stomach. But though her body had already responded with blind panic, her mind refused to acknowledge that fear.

No way. It couldn't be. There couldn't be anything weird going on with Smallville, Chloe would have said. And the Legion told her he was alive. He had to be fine! He had been shot and knocked on the head countless times and still, he was there. He wasn't just small-time Smallville, he was the country town that would not, could not be beaten down. If you landed a meteor on him, he just build it all back like before.

And as for his desk, well, the Planet had just cut back on the cleaning staff since the ads had begun to tail off. She'd noticed the lighter weight of the paper she'd picked up last night. Even a great institute like the Planet wasn't safe from falling sales. His desk was dirty because they'd cut back on the Pledge.

But.

There were the questions she'd ignored. The barren appearance of his workspace, not just messy but abandoned. The fact Chloe hadn't mentioned his name since she'd crossed the threshold.

When it came to him, she often ignored those little irritating questions. Like, why does he stare at me like that sometimes if he feels nothing? Or how can he look like a man, and act like a hero but run like a little kid when things get a little tense between them?

Sometimes the questions would creep up on her as she lay in bed at night and she'd find herself curling her hands into fists as sleep evaded her. That was when the doubt would be at its worst. In the dark, there was no protection from all the things that terrified her. Things like failing in her dream to be a top reporter, someone who made an impact. Or never finding a man who didn't put her somewhere down the bottom in his list of priorities. Never being someone special.

Smallville had a whole litany of late-night questions that she'd run through because a small part of her enjoyed the pain that came with thinking of him. She never really expected answers to any of them and if she'd ever got them she was sure she wouldn't like them.

None of them truly mattered anyway. There was only one thing she really needed to ask.

"Where the hell is Smallville?"

The question was everything.


	5. Chapter 5

Lois held the phone to her ear and listened to the automated message for the fourth time in a row. So far she had listened to the unbearably smug tones of the cellular company computer woman and hung up before leaving a message but this time, she was finally ready to spit it out.

"Smallville, it's me. I'm not M.I.A. anymore okay. I'm totally fine. Which means you have to explain what the hell you are doing in India?!" She took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of her temper. The ugly residue of her fear was making her very close to snapping. But the voicemail service probably wasn't designed to contain the full freight of her anger.

How dare he! How dare he scare her so badly! Where was he when Chloe needed him? Finding himself in Asia? It was beyond words.

What she really needed to do was slap him across that handsome face of his. Her cousin had tried to cover for him but Lois knew how she truly felt: abandoned. With Clark, you could be talking to him one minute and when you turned around he was gone. He would sneak off without a word. But he always turned up again. And sometimes he had impeccable timing, appearing just as an ugly situation was going to turn deadly.

But this. This was something else. Sure, he liked to go off the grid once in a while. He usually disappeared over the summer for a bit but the guy's life was so buttoned down, she could hardly blame him. This time, it was all different. Chloe was wrecked with grief and he had walked away from his job, from the farm, from everything that meant something to him?

"You really need to explain this to me Clark because right now…right now…" She looked round the guest bedroom she was in and her eyes alighted on the framed picture on the nightstand. Everything had been so perfect that day. She had finally started to believe that Jimmy Olsen deserved her baby cousin because he had managed to put the most perfect smile on her face. The radiant joy she had given out that day had flared and puttered out. Now there didn't seem a chance it could ever come back. How was she supposed to help her? How could she do this alone? "Right now I am going to kill you for this. You left her. She needs you. Don't you understand how much she needs you?" She felt the tears rise again so she ended the call abruptly. She should have been able to say it all with words, that was her job. But the words just weren't enough.

There was a knock at the door and it was nudged open. Oliver looked through the gap, a sad smile on his face.

"Did you get his voicemail service?" Lois nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Yep. He hasn't returned any of my calls but he might get back to you Lois."

"I doubt it. The coward's probably too scared to even check his messages." Oliver frowned.

"He's a lot of things Lois but he's no coward. I seem to remember he took a bullet for you not so long ago." Lois flushed uncomfortably at the shaming memory. She would never forgive herself for putting Jimmy and Clark in danger like that. But the man was so frustrating. She couldn't simply wipe out all the awkward things about him because he'd risked his life for her. Because she wanted the whole picture. She wasn't prepared to just see him as the bravest man she had ever known. She wanted to know all the other parts.

"You know what I mean Ollie. The guy would throw himself on a grenade to save a kitten but he's terrified of life! I had to drag him kicking and screaming off the farm to the Planet and he was starting to really be…"

"Be what?"

"An adult," she said sharply. Usually she would have felt guilty for talking this way about Clark when he wasn't around but she was sick of this crap. Leaving Chloe was the final straw.

"He's always been responsible, he's always had to be," Oliver replied, and she guessed he was thinking of his work on the farm.

"Chores. He mucks out the cowshed, he does his duty. He wants to because he's supposed to. He dates the girl next door and he plays football. He keeps his life small and he does his chores." Oliver looked bewildered and she wasn't surprised. This wasn't something she'd ever articulated out loud before but it was something she was coming to believe more and more. "But there is something bigger out there for him, I know there is. It's not about the things he has to do, it's about the things he should do for himself, because selling yourself short is wrong Ollie. Not realising your potential."

"And you think he has potential," Oliver grinned. She shrugged and crossed her arms.

"If he follows the Lane rules closely enough, he might make something of himself at the Planet. Why else do you think I let the corn-fed tractor-boy follow me around?" She stared at him, daring him to say something. He wisely decided not to but contented himself with a raised eyebrow. "Anyway, I clearly taught him nothing because he's worse than ever." A darker expression crept on to the millionaire's face.

"You weren't here Lois, what happened was hard for all of us. Jimmy's death was…" He swallowed hard. "It should never have happened. But I got it all wrong. I got so much wrong." Lois moved closer to him and placed her hand on the side of his face.

"You can't save everyone, you know that."

"I never expected I could! I'm not like Clark, I don't have his noble ideals." Lois was surprised Oliver would even compare himself to Smallville. "I've always been more pragmatic about it."

"Steal from the corrupted rich, give to the poor?"

"The ends justify the means. But how can I say that anymore?"

"However you put him down, you stopped that beast from killing more people."

"But I didn't stop him Lois! It was all him! Your blur!" Oliver rubbed his face with both hands, his exhaustion suddenly obvious. "How he survived that explosion at the plant I'll never know. His strength is incredible. I don't think he even knows how powerful he is," he shook his head in amazement.

"You're talking like you know him. You swore you didn't."

"Yeah, we all hang out together in a superhero clubhouse trading costume tips," Oliver snapped. "We're not the Power Rangers Lois." She didn't fail to notice that he hadn't denied her accusation. She knew it. She knew Oliver knew who the blur was. However, short of slipping him some roofies, he was never going to tell her. When it came to his double-life he was resolute. No interviews, no pictures and no referrals.

"Whatever. You didn't kill Jimmy, and the thing that did is gone. You can't torture yourself over this, I won't let you," she said firmly. He looked up at her and laughed suddenly at her glare.

"Now I know I'm in trouble." He stared at her for a long moment and then murmured, "I really missed you." Lois saw again the same naked emotion she had glimpsed on Chloe's face. It was hard for her to see that pain on their faces when it felt like she'd just been gone a day. But how they felt about her was right there, plain to see. And it made her uncomfortable as hell.

She rolled her eyes.

"Of course you did, you spend too much time with bimbos who fall for that international playboy routine."

"Routine?"

"You know you do it, don't play the innocent."

"I do not have a routine." Then he forgot to be affronted and countered with, "But if I did have one, it certainly worked on you."

"You were just my arm candy Queen, I wanted a good-looking man who didn't have too much between the ears. You seemed to fit the bill." Oliver winced.

"You normally talk to Clark this way?"

"He has a thick skin," she said defensively. "And anyway, I gave you a hard time when we were together."

"Lois, you don't treat anyone quite like you treat Clark." He shook his head. "Thank god."

"Well when I see him again, there aren't words for what I'm going to do to him!" She glanced at Oliver who was struggling not to smile. "Oh my god, get your mind out of the gutter please Oliver? I'm furious with him! I can't forgive him for this."

"You say that…"

"…and I mean it." And with that, she needed to change the subject, quickly. "You and Chloe have nearly tied up all the loose ends right? Because I need to get out of here before I call my Dad."

"Where are you going?"

"To see a friend."

--------------------------------------

It was a nice spot. She supposed that wasn't really important. It was a beautiful day as well, still warm in the sun, and the view over the water was of the heart of Metropolis. That was something they'd always had in common, the two of them, a love of the city. People complained about the crime, or the smell, or the Metro but they didn't understand. The city was everything. Metropolis was life, he understood that. Anything could happen there.

You could die there. You could be in the ground before you were thirty. You could be buried in a plot with a top class prospect of the city you had been so in love with.

She could promise him that she would stay in the city and love it when he couldn't. She could go to the fair in the park and ride the spinning cups and afterwards walk through the zoo in the dark, spy on the sleeping tigers through the bars. She could wake up at five and go to the fish market, chat with the guys in their plastic white aprons and scales stuck under their fingernails, watch them go to work with their cleavers. Or go the first ball game of the season, buy beer and hot dogs, scream when her face showed up on the big screen.

She could take care of the woman he loved. Stroke her hair while she cried, chivvy her into getting dressed, getting out. She could wipe away her tears and re-touch her makeup before they went out to a bar. She could watch as her cousin failed to find someone who took away the numb feeling. Stand back as she got hurt by a man who didn't have half the heart of her dead husband. Pick her up and get her to start all over again. Go through the wedding album and talk about the dress fittings, who had got drunk at the reception. Laugh about the first dance. Cry again.

Start over. She had to try and promise him that. She could land the story he had been so excited about. She could finally meet the red and blue blur and get her interview. She could uncover the fantastic truth about the man who had saved his life. Only for him to lose it.

She could swear she would visit his grave every week, month, year, leave a flower for him, tell him what she was doing. She could keep him in her thoughts every day and say to everyone, 'My friend was this great photographer…'. She could beg him to forgive her for not giving him a break soon enough. She could apologise for not being a better friend to him when he and Chloe had broken up. She could wish she could go back to when they had last spoken and warn him.

She could go to the future and come back without a clue he was already gone.

Suddenly a sharp gust of wind whipped her hair in her eyes. For a moment she thought she saw someone standing over by the water but when she reorganised herself she saw there was nobody there.

Lois reached out and touched the cold marble. There were words on the head stone, nice words. Beautiful even. They weren't enough. Nothing she could say would be enough. She didn't know why the words couldn't come today. She'd thought there wasn't anything she couldn't put into any words.

All she could say was,

"I'm going to miss you so much Jimmy."

Maybe that would do for now.


	6. Chapter 6

People wrote plenty of stories about Tess Mercer. She was a hot story and editors liked to run a picture of an attractive woman on the business pages. Hell, on any pages. News wasn't always that sophisticated.

There were divided opinions about her. She was either one of Lex's squeezes who was the puppet of someone within LutherCorp, or she was the last stroke of genius from the dead CEO, a magnetic, dynamic new businesswoman who was prepared to make tough decisions to steer the company through difficult times.

Lois knew the real story was buried a lot deeper than those reporters were looking. She had only had her suspicions until the day Jimmy had hacked into her computer. Realising Tess was tracking Chloe and Davis Bloome, and she was also investigating a piece of alien technology told her that the businesswoman had shared some of Lex's obsessions. Then she realised that, unlike Lex who favoured delegation, Tess was prepared to get her hands very dirty to get what she wanted.

That was reinforced by the woman clotheslining her in the bullpen. Here was an executive made from a slightly different mould than Warren Buffet.

Lois checked her watch. Tess' assistant had said she would see her in ten, twenty minutes ago. The wait was driving her crazy. She knew how carefully she would have to handle this meeting. On the one hand, her employer had nothing to fear from a lowly journalist with no hard evidence and a supposed recent head trauma. On the other hand, the woman had been very desperate and quite out of control when she'd last seen her. If she was prepared to beat her brains out and torture some man to get her mystery orb, what wouldn't she do?

She fiddled with her jacket for a moment and then reached out to the table in front of her for something to distract her. Today's edition of the Gotham Gazette was there, so Lois flipped through it with some interest. The editorialal tone was unsurprisingly gloomy given that the city had so much smog that there was talk of pumping Vitamin D into the water supply. She would be miserable too if she lived in an oppressive place like that.

There was also one story conspicuous in its absence. The paper seemed to following the police advice and pretending there was no crazy vigilante running around the city, leaving criminals with broken limbs and wild stories about bats.

Because the blogs and the tabloids were all over it though, everyone knew the real score. That was a story that needed a closer look, and if the red-blue blur hadn't been on the scene, she might have begged the editor to send her there to cover itself.

The blur was more her kind of hero though. He had incredible powers but used the minimum amount of force to get the job done. He had a gift and he felt a responsibility to share it. What the Legion had told her had only re-affirmed her faith in him. He had a great destiny ahead of him.

Now all she had to do was work out how she was supposed to help him do that. She couldn't write stories about him if she couldn't get back to work. She couldn't expose Mercer as a dangerous lunatic without her job. It would also leave her sitting around her apartment, eating cereal directly out of the box and watching endless episodes of 'Murder She Wrote' in her robe. Though Jessica Fletcher's amateur sleuthing were an inspirtation to her, she would be chewing her own foot off before the week was out.

When the gatekeeper finally ushered her into the office, Tess was seated behind her desk, her usual cool, imperious smile in place. She gestured at a seat and Lois sat down, trying to look relaxed.

"Miss Lane, who could believe you've just emerged from a coma? You look the picture of health." It wasn't off to a fantastic start Lois mused. She bit back the reply about only being too happy to help Tess experience a head injury's recuperative qualities. Instead she just shrugged.

"I was luckier than a lot of people."

"I'm glad to see you back on your feet. Your family must be relieved." That brought back all the uncomfortable memories of last night's reunion. Going through all the lies with her father and sister right in front of her had been a struggle. It had occurred to her more than once that Lucy didn't entire swallow the story either.

Both of them were now staying at the Plaza and her father was talking about all kinds of family activities. She was hoping that as the reality of her return sunk in he would start to chafe at the idea of enforced family time and return to Fort Lauderdale. Lucy was probably only minutes away from bolting unless she found an amusing mark at the hotel. Lois wasn't convinced by her turning over a new leaf speech. She left the blind faith to Smallville.

"Mr Queen gave me some details when he called yesterday. But if you could talk me through it again I would be fascinated to hear how you lay in a hospital bed for so long without anyone realising who you were," Tess smiled innocently. Lois tried not to groan and began to run through the concoction Chloe and Oliver had come up with. Through a combination of faked records and bribed officials, they had created something vaguely plausible. And there had been a lot of chaos when the beast struck Metropolis.

The fiction was this: Lois had been caught up in the fracas on the day she had disappeared. She had tried to drag an injured tourist to safety when she had been badly injured. When the EMT crew had found them both, the mix-up had started. The young woman's i.d. had been put with Lois, and given that her head and facial injuries were quite severe, they had only been able to go on height, hair and eye colour. That had all matched.

When she'd been med-evacced to a high-dependency unit outside the city, the wrong name went with her. Only when the tourist had gone home and started to receive confusing letters from her health insurer had the problem come to light. The wheels of bureaucracy had turned quite slowly, so by the time the unit had realised Lois wasn't who they thought she was, she had been coming out her coma as they had hoped.

At first, in the stress of her recovery, she had been unable to recall her full name. But as soon as she had begun to recuperate her memories had come back and they had contacted her family in Metropolis: Chloe.

"The swelling on my brain and around my face went down pretty quickly and they kept up quite a tough physiotherapy regime while I was in the coma. I'm almost back to full strength." This was the part that Tess was waiting for. "Of course, my memory's still fuzzy around the edges."

The woman opposite her maintained her poker face but Lois thought she could detect a glint of something in her eye. Oliver had told her when he had called to discuss Lois meeting her that the reporter couldn't remember the day she disappeared. Which meant everyone was playing it as if the embarrassing last encounter had never happened. Amnesia had never been more convenient.

"They say it's the mind's way of protecting itself. Will you ever get that day back?" The tone was still very casual, only vaguely interested but Lois knew what she was really asking her. Was Lois going to not-so-subtly threaten her by suggesting she had something to hold over her?

"Probably not. I think it would be best if I didn't remember." Tess raised an eyebrow.

"That could be true."

"I just want to put it all behind me and get back to work. That's the only thing that matters to me." Tess held her gaze for a long moment. Whatever conclusion she had reached about Lois' story, she was unlikely to buy the memory loss, her analysis of her motives seemed to leave her satisfied for the moment.

Tess nodded, "Of course you'll be able to return to work as soon as you feel you're ready. I would appreciate you stopping by the news desk to give your story to someone. We wouldn't want your reappearance covered by anyone else." Lois smiled weakly.

"That's great. There's only one more thing I wanted to ask."

"Oh yes?"

"It's about Clark Kent."

"Ah."

"They said downstairs that he was on sabbatical," Lois said, the disbelief evident in her voice.

"Mr Kent needed to take some time out to attend to personal matters. He's a valuable asset to the Planet, we wouldn't want to lose him. But I'm sure he's told you all about it." Lois frowned. Tess' interest in Clark was another mystery. She couldn't believe it was just down to simple attraction. Smallville had his own limited Kansas allure but where was the link between Lex, Oliver and Clark? If she'd made a Venn diagram out of that group, the only commonality would have been a pulse. Or had been.

Given her un-objective position on the farm-boy, she wasn't inclined to believe it was an innocent interest on Tess' part. She had to be running some kind of game but Clark wouldn't be able to handle that. He wasn't cut out to deal with predatory people like her, another good reason to expose the woman for what she was.

She realised her mistake then. She was assuming he was coming back. He still hadn't called.

"Of course," Lois said dryly. "We're like two peas in a pod. I just wanted to be sure he'll still have a place downstairs when he's back."

"We take great care of our employees here Lois. I hope that's been your experience."

"Oh without a doubt," Lois said gravely. Who said job security was dead?

-------------------------------------------

On her way down to the basement, Lois peeked her head round the cubicle of her favourite investigate reporter on the paper. The only investigative reporter left on the paper in fact. The Planet was better than most but it had still cut back hard on fripperies like the international desk and arts critics. Maurie Green was still holding on because the editor suspected his arteries would fur up before he could get the necessary paperwork through human resources to fire him. He smoked fifty a day, drank out of a hip flask in his top drawer, and could scent out a story from across the city.

Lois had worked out early on that Maurie really knew the score. He hailed from a time when legends like Woodward and Bernstein had been making their names. He had taught her so much just by talking about his own career. He'd first made it clear to her the importance of looking closer at the first take on the facts.

"Hi Maurie, how's it going?" Lois breezed into his cubicle and perched on the end of his desk. Maurie looked up in surprise from his keyboard and sighed loudly,

"Lane, how many times do I have to tell you? Knock first!"

"I would if you were important enough to have a door," she returned as she looked over the materials scattered over his workspace. "Pleased to see me?" He harrumphed and returned to peering at his computer.

"Thought you were in a coma."

"I was."

"It could never have lasted. You can't talk in a coma after all." Maurie pressed a key with satisfaction and turned his seat round to look at her more critically. "You look pretty good for a girl who got her head smashed into the sidewalk."

"My face healed quicker than my brain."

"Let's not too be hasty. There could still be some brain damage." Lois tried not to smile as she flicked a paper clip at him. "You been in with the shark?"

"She's welcomed me back into the fold. Why hasn't she fired Smallville Maurie?"

"Good looking woman, good looking guy, you're the reporter, figure it out."

"Very funny," Lois said sourly. "You know it's weird."

"Rumour is she's pulling back." Maurie steepled his hands over his ample gut and leaned back in his chair. "Now thing's with Queen Industries are hotting up she's going to spending more time in the air, and less interfering with us." Lois was surprised. Tess had continued Lex's heritage of editorial influence, both appointing yes men as editors who would tow the party line. Maybe if she stepped back from the paper she might have a chance of keeping her job to the end of the month.

"Who's she going to get to run things then? Johnson hasn't got any credibility around here, without Tess at his back he'll lose the troops."

"Nothing's certain yet but I doubt he has many more days at the helm." Maurie and Lois speculated for a few more minutes before Maurie turned back to his work, dismissing her without a word. She wasn't offended by his brusque style, she had enough self-awareness to realise it was a lot like her own.

After some form-filling in the personnel department, she finally descended to the bullpen. She'd already caught up with a lot of her colleagues so only faced a few questions before she could sit down at Clark's desk. Since she didn't have her own computer anymore, or even chair she noticed, she'd have to borrow his for a while. Opening his top drawer, she found the careful pile of deli napkins he always kept on hand in case of sauce spillages. Usually her own of course.

The sight of them made her breath catch in her throat. It was ridiculous that something so trivial could prompt that kind of reaction in her. But it was just so…so Clark.

She shut the drawer forcefully and wiped the desk down quickly. Chucking it in the trash, she fired up the computer and waited for her life to start making some sense again. Trawling through the paper's archives from the last two months she could pretend that things were as she left them. She was back doing her job, chasing the story. But if she raised her eyes from the screen she would realise she was looking at the office the wrong way round. This was his view.

But she was concerned with a different man, the one she had come back to help. An hour later she could see a definite escalation in what the red-blue blur had been doing since she had left. He seemed to be everywhere. And it wasn't just Metropolis, there had also been reports of him as far afield as California. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't save a life, if not a dozen. Bank robberies were foiled, house fires were put out and a jumper from the port bridge was saved.

Except the jumper hadn't been saved. Because the week after she had thrown herself under the Metro train. Her name was given as Kate Roberts, a 27-year-old employee at the water board. She was survived by her mother.

That was the story everyone agreed on but Lois knew it was all wrong. No one had bothered to look hard enough because there was another story waiting there. Kate Roberts could not have killed herself. Would never have killed herself. She snatched up the phone and dialled a number. An automated message told her the number she was trying to reach was no longer active. She hung up without looking at the handset, her eyes fixed to the information on the screen again with disbelief.

She searched for Kate's name but pulled up no accurate matches. That was no further mention of her death. Which meant everyone was satisfied with what had been written. No one was looking any further, there was no mention of a police investigation. But Lois knew Kate. She couldn't accept she would have taken her own life, the idea was unthinkable. Which left some rather stark choices.

Either it was suicide or her source had been murdered.


	7. Chapter 7

The first rule was Know Your Source. For Lois that meant you didn't just keep a handle on where your information was coming from, it also meant you got a handle on the person who was providing you with your story. You had to learn their routines, know how they took their drinks, work out their motives. The more you knew, the more you could trust what they gave you, and the more likely you could call on them again.

Rule number one kept Lois from wrapping her arms around Clark Kent when she saw him.

Because she had known her source, she couldn't let go of her anger, even when confronted with his bruised eyes. Her discovery of Kate's emails to her meant there was a white-hot ball of rage sitting where her feelings for Clark had been.

After she had read the story about her source's death, she had begun to dig around. Her first port of call was the transport police. She used the name of a friend on the city police to loosen some lips and had arranged a meeting with the first metro cop on the scene. After she had got the guy steamed in a downtown bar, she had more information on the case and a promise she could come down to the station herself and take a quick peek in the official report.

He had no doubts it was suicide.

Then Lois had contacted the care home where Kate's mother lived. The only explanation Lois could conceive of for Kate to give up on life was if her mother had died. But a few enquiries about coming out to see Mrs Roberts in light of her daughter's accident confirmed she was still alive, if totally unaware that her only child had passed away. Lois had hung up the phone just as the nurse had started to ask about financial arrangements.

Kate's mother suffered from early-onset dementia. She had cared for her at home for as long as possible but eventually looking after her and working full-time became impossible. Since her mother's insurance didn't cover the kind of care and drugs she needed, Kate had no option but to place her in a residential unit and work as hard as she could to gain a promotion. Every moment she wasn't in the office she spent in the unit with her mother.

Such a burden would have crushed many people but Kate had spoken of her mom with such love and affection that Lois knew she bore it willingly.

Lois next called Kate's boss and visited the grey, concrete building where she had worked. Her boss, a nervous, thin man, seemed astonished at Lois' interest and had been equally taken aback by his employee's sudden death.

"It just reminds you that you never really know someone. You can work alongside them every day and never truly know what goes on in their heads."

Those words had seemed particularly appropriate that night when Lois had finally returned to Chloe's apartment. She was crashing at her cousin's until she could get her stuff out of storage and back into her own place. The General, thankfully, had kept up the rent in her absence, refusing to believe his little girl was gone for good.

As she kicked off her heels and slumped on Chloe's couch, she noticed the flashing answer machine on the breakfast bar. Then she remembered the ten second message left on her cell phone. Chloe had rescued her abandoned effects from the Daily Planet a few days after she had disappeared. Her cell phone had died but after charging the battery, Lois had been able to hear several weeks worth of calls from people who didn't realise she was missing, presumed dead.

One message had been particularly brief and fuzzy. She hadn't even been able to identify the voice. But now she realised it had been from Kate. Who had promised to email her.

As soon as she had opened up her bursting private email account, she had found three emails from Kate, the last one sent only two days before her death from a completely different address.

And in the penultimate email, the words which meant she could barely look at Clark when he entered the diner.

'…can't get in contact with you, so I'm going to call your friend Kent, hope you don't mind.'

And in the final email:

'Your friend couldn't help me, so I'm hoping you get a chance to read this before it's too late.'

Lois had seen Clark approach from across the road because she had taken their normal window booth. They had always sat there when they'd had time to linger over their food because it meant they could people-watch. She would give Clark pointers on his articles, and Clark would roll his eyes at her. She would steal half his fries, and Clark would let her.

But now he seemed totally altered. Rather than being dressed in his usual bright primaries that he wore outside work, he was in dull, subdued shades. His shoulders looked bowed as he darted across the dark road, dodging the traffic. He didn't like to jay-walk. As he walked in she saw his face was pale, his eyes dark and sunken. He even looked unshaven.

Clark was always cleanly-shaved, it was what made him quite young, despite his height and broad build. It made him look fresh. Now he looked like hell.

When he saw her his eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' of surprise, even though he had known she would be there. She had left him the message demanding he come after all, after Chloe had let slip he was 'back' in Metropolis.

Then he spoke her name, and it sounded so strangled, so strange, that she could only stare at him. But she couldn't forget rule number one, or the responsibility she had had to protect Kate.

"Nice of you to show your face. I didn't order you anything, we won't be staying long," she said curtly. She was satisfied to see that she had managed to score a hit, though it also filled her with sick dread that such a thing would please her. His initial pain faded from his face, to be replaced by a cold, set expression. It was as if a complete stranger sat in front of her.

Fine, she thought. It just makes it easier to get this done with.

"As I mentioned, I need to clear up some details with you about my source."

"I still don't know you're talking about," he said calmly. Lois put her folder on the table between them and pulled out several printed pages. As Clark leant over them and she drew his attention to the Planet article, she tried to ignore the familiar feelings this scene provoked in her. How many times had they done this, bending their heads together to study something?

But he had walked away from all that.

"The red-blue blur saved her life three weeks ago when she apparently jumped from the port bridge. But then a week later she fell in front of a Metro train." She studied his face and saw a small flicker of something slip out from behind his mask.

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry he couldn't help her."

"He's not God. There is someone who could have helped her though. Does the name Kate Roberts ring any bells for you?" Clark lifted his head and seemed about to reply in the negative before pausing. "That's right. The woman who called you when I was gone. The woman who asked for your help." The recognition in his face was terrible to see and for a moment she thought his whole face would collapse. But he brought it under control again. "What did she say to you? Tell me. Exactly."

"She asked me where you were. I said I didn't know," he turned to look out of the window at the empty, dark road. "No one knew where you were. I looked everywhere. Everywhere." His voice was still steady but his hands were curling in on themselves where they lay on the table. "But you were gone. I told her that. She asked if I could help her, she had a story she needed to talk to someone about. She said…she said you had told her that I could be trusted. I told I wasn't a reporter anymore. I told her I couldn't help her. I told her to call someone else." He continued to stare through the glass and Lois felt something fragile inside her break. He had really done it. It was just as she thought.

"That's all I needed to know. I'm going to go now. But since you won't be coming back to the Planet, I thought you might like your little memento back." She pulled his framed copy of the rules out of her bag and laid it in front of him. "To remember the place by. After all, you never throw good memories away." She shook her head with disgust and slid out of the booth, leaving the print-outs behind her. As she pulled on her jacket, she looked at his back with bewilderment.

"I don't get it Clark. You never give up on anything. What made you give up now?" He turned round at looked at her with the same exposed pain in his expression again. He was tired, she realised, totally exhausted.

"It was…" But he didn't finish the sentence, only stared at her for a long moment before looking down. She gave up waiting for an answer and walked out. But as she crossed the street she glanced back at the diner to see him still sitting where she had left him. He was holding the frame tightly and studying the words. Even from this distance she could see the tension radiating from his whole frame. Part of her wanted to rush back to him and demand answers. But he had turned his back on Chloe, on her, on Kate, so she wasn't going back. Those were the rules.


	8. Chapter 8

Her spelling mistake was the part that charmed him the most. Lois could be a terrible speller, and a prime example was captured there for posterity on her 'rules'. He couldn't quite explain why he had put it in a frame all those months ago. But then his behaviour around Lois had been confusing for a while.

For example, he wasn't sure why he had come to meet her tonight but he thought it had something to do with that spelling mistake, and all the other little things. Like the way she chewed her pens. In anyone else he would have found the habit faintly disgusting but somehow the sight of her teeth clamped around a pencil as she frowned at her copy brought a smile to his face.

Chloe would have had fun at his expense over that one of course but it wasn't about _that_. It was about things that were hard to explain. Like why did he enjoy the sight of her devouring a cheeseburger so much? It wasn't about her mouth. Though she did have a nice one.

That didn't mean anything though, it was an innocent observation. Noticing someone's mouth didn't mean anything. Noticing mouths was friendly, it was, uh, neighbourly. After all, he was pretty sure his neighbour Ben Hubble had a mouth, how else would he chew tobacco?

That was the kind of thing she did to him. Every time he even skirted round the subject in his mind, he would end up a frustrated mess. She had always been able to infuriate him but lately it had been different. It had been uncomfortable. It would be easy and fun one second and the next she would give him this look and it would change.

On those occasions, if he didn't make his excuses and leave then he would say something he shouldn't. He would give her a glimpse of something he didn't understand himself and then it couldn't be taken back. There was this friction between them that wasn't about them being at odds with each other, about him being some country boy from the hicks and her being a slightly unhinged army brat. Instead the friction came from them working together too well. Becoming a team.

Maybe that was why he had come, even though he swore he wouldn't. He had known how dangerous it would be for his composure, even seeing her in the cemetery had been difficult. If it had been someone else's grave then maybe he would have gone to her, held her in his arms, soothed her with mindless murmurs. But he had put Jimmy there and he couldn't move one step closer.

And so coming to meet her had indeed proved to be a mistake. As soon as he had seen her close up, seen her horrified expression, he had started to feel his exhaustion for the first time in weeks. Then she had started talking and he had tried to keep it together, to follow her lead and be as cool as she was to him. It had been okay for a few moments until she had mentioned the jumper.

He regretted he couldn't fly like Kara the most when he handled the jumpers. Jor-El had been teaching him about human physiology and it scared him to learn how fragile the human body was. If it was high enough, it might not be the impact that killed them but the fall. Suicides from the port bridge were the hardest because he couldn't jump to intercept them, and if they entered the water wrong, they could die before drowning was even a possibility.

The young woman had gone into the water at the right angle though. He had got to her before her lungs filled with water. As he swum back to the dock he had heard a weak voice in his ear, telling him she needed help. Could he help her? Would he save her? He thought he already had.

He hadn't handled the situation carefully enough. He had tried to keep his identity hidden and abandoned her with cops parked nearby. He tried to rationalise that a suicidal woman needed professional help, not the help of some idiot with super-powers. How could he have stopped her trying again?

It had still hurt though, to have Lois tell him she had suceeded in her next attempt. Every death hurt. And Lois' anger was difficult to bear. He had dreamed about her when he was sleeping in the Fortress. She had come back from wherever she was lost in time and everything had been fixed. All the bad things, all the dark, coiling fears inside him had evaporated in one shaft of sunlight as she forgave him everything. He had never dreamed this rage. But he knew he deserved it. She might not know how involved he had been in Jimmy's death, in Doomsday's rampage, but she knew he had walked away from his life, tried to shut out his own thoughts so he could hear the city's cries better. He couldn't expect her to understand that.

So when she had told him that the woman he hadn't helped had been the same person who had called him weeks ago, he had almost lost it. Lois was implying that she had been killed, that she hadn't jumped. Her source had tried to get his help twice, and twice he had failed her. Kate Roberts. Of all the people he had saved in the past two months, how many of them had called out for the red-blue blur?

And how many of them had called out for Clark Kent?

He had killed him off so he wouldn't make another mistake, because his human side made him fail. But Lois wasn't looking at him with horror because the red-blue blur had failed, she was looking at him like that because she had expected Clark Kent to pull through for her, and he hadn't. Clark Kent had been the one who could have saved her source.

She had handed his memento to him and thrown his words from the wedding back at him. He was the kind of man who treasured the good times, held on to them. That was why he had left everything behind for this miserable life he had now. She could see the weariness in his limbs, hear the pain in his flat voice. She had always been able to read him well. Another reason he shouldn't have come. How could he tell her that what he was doing, he was doing for the right reasons? He had tried to fit in for so long, to be like everyone else. But it was all a lie.

As she left she had asked him one final question, "What made you give up now?"

The answer was almost on his lips before he stopped himself. Looking into her eyes he had the sudden urge to tell her everything. That he was sent to this planet to save lives. That he had spent his whole life yearning for a kind of normalcy that was slipping ever further from his fingers. That he had searched every hospital in the state for her and come up with nothing every time. That the sight of her after so long was…

But in the end he said nothing. Easier to let her go on hating him than try and explain himself. He couldn't afford to lose his focus, not when he was pushing himself further and further every day.

He stared at the reminder of his job at the Daily Planet. He had always imagined it would be Chloe writing headline news but life hadn't turned out that way. Instead Lois was the one competing for the big stories and he was learning the trade from her. He knew her mentor act was a bit of a pose, since being a reporter was a recent discovery for her, and she often stumbled into her big breaks. But she was imparting something when she lectured him on her commandments and how he had to drop his 'puppy-dog eyes' and play hardball to get the bylines. She was teaching him how important the job really was. How much of a difference it could make.

He couldn't have that life and do his duty though. If he wanted to save more lives, he had to cut out all the normal parts of his life. Including her, he concluded. Just ten minutes in her company had made him feel in turn exhilarated, frustrated, exhausted and crushed.

He took the piece of notepaper out of its frame and carefully folded it. He placed it along with Lois' papers in the inside pocket of his jacket and left the diner. As he tuned into the sounds around him, he tried to tune in to Lois. He heard the sound of Chloe's car and then her voice, muttering curses under her breath. Even though it was directed at him, it made him laugh all of a sudden. He felt buoyant for a moment. As bad as things had been and would be from now on, she was out there at least. She was back where she belonged.

Something broke into his reverie then, the muffled cries of a woman, close by. Sounds of a scuffle. He looked around to check he was alone and then sped off to the source of the noise. Down an alley near the Trident night club, a young woman in party gear was being dragged backwards towards the open doors of a van. Her screams were being stifled by the arm across her throat. Her attacker was a tall, skinny man, wearing a ski mask.

Clark called out to halt his progress and the man looked his way. The woman's eyes widened with relief as Clark stepped further into the alley, his shoulders set square as he said firmly,

"Let her go. Now." The masked man only shook his head. Then the woman's body convulsed though her assailant didn't seem to be applying any more pressure on her neck. However he was hurting her, Clark realised he enjoyed displaying his power to what he thought was an impotent bystander. He thought he had the upper-hand, because if Clark came any closer, he could choke the woman to death before he reached them.

But Clark wasn't a bystander. He narrowed his eyes, summoning up the power of his heat vision to burn the edge of the man's leather jacket. He released his hold on the woman with shock and tried to beat out the flames licking at his arm. Clark super-sped towards them and pushed the man back against a brick wall. He helped the young woman to her feet and tried to penetrate her dazed condition by instructing her to run and call the cops. As she stumbled back down the alley, Clark re-focussed his attention on the kidnapper.

He was struggling back to his feet and holding his arm where the jacket had burnt tightly.

"You really shouldn't have done that," he mumbled through his mask. Clark was about to approach him again when a sharp pain jabbed behind his eyes like a shard of glass. He groaned and felt his legs tremble as it increased in intensity. It felt different from Kryptonite, which usually radiated through his entire body. This was concentrated in his head. He didn't know what was causing it and as it escalated he realised the alley in front of him was being bleached white, like the brightness being dialled up on a television screen.

He collapsed to the ground and saw the man walk up beside him through half-closed eyes.

"That's strange. Most people would be unconscious by now. What are you anyway?" Clark could only reply with desperate ragged breaths. His whole mind was now focussed on riding out the agony he was experiencing. He didn't know how much more he could take without passing out. But just as suddenly as it had appeared, the bolt of pain went away. "Next time then." Clark heard the sound of running and then a van engine starting up. As the man escaped, he also distinguished the siren of a squad car. He lay on his back, his whole body aching, and let his senses slowly sharpen. The cool air around his made the sweat covering his limbs feel sickly.

And he had thought only Lois could make him feel this bad.


	9. Chapter 9

There was one journalism commandment Lois broke more than any other, and that was 'don't get personally involved with a story'. It didn't always make a lot of sense to her, and so she decided it was one of those rules she'd categorise as Probably Should rather than Definitely Would, along with never getting involved with emotionally unavailable men and avoiding tequila.

She recognised that Kate Roberts was a situation when getting involved was justified. Though there seemed to be no solid evidence to the contrary, she knew in her gut that she had been killed. Whatever she had been murdered over had something to do with the man she had asked Lois to run a background check on for her, her new boyfriend. By the time of her final email, sent from a new account created at an internet café, she had been afraid for her life. She said the man had already made one attempt to kill her and she was knew it was only a matter of time before he tried again.

Kate had been able to provide a name and a social security number, and the checks Lois had asked for had finally come in. The name, Josh Kellerman, was a fake, along with the number. They both belonged to a baby who had died over 28 years ago.

Unfortunately Kate didn't know exactly why he was trying to kill her, and her emails had been confused and hurried. What Lois was able to assemble from her communiqués was that Josh had met her at After Dark, a new club near Suicide Slums. A work colleague had held her birthday party there, and he had struck up a conversation at the bar with Kate. Kate had mentioned several times how sweet he had seemed, how gentle. He had a powerful effect on her that his surface charms wouldn't hint at. Like something chemical, she had said. So despite the fact she was a shy, reserved woman, she had let him take her home. And a week later he was still there.

Obviously Kate had risen out of the fog of her sudden infatuation long enough to realise something was strange about her new boyfriend, so she had checked out his wallet while he slept one night, and called Lois the next day. She had followed that with the first email. Then she had woken up one night to find him gone from the apartment, and her purse disturbed. Her i.d. card for work was missing. Once she had built up the courage to confront him, he had hurt her. Kate didn't say how but it had been bad and however he had done it hadn't left any visible marks. He had threatened her mother then, told he how he would enjoy hurting a woman who couldn't communicate her agony, who was totally vulnerable. He had moved out of her place but she would often see him hanging round outside her office, see him when she was at the market. Whatever he needed her for, he wasn't done with her yet. She still had some function but she knew that eventually she would be surplus to requirements and would need to dealt with. He would enjoy dealing with her, he was looking forward to it, she saw that in his eyes.

Kate had asked for help in identifying him so she could take her story to the police. Without any evidence of a crime, she couldn't risk that the cops wouldn't believe her. But she didn't believe that this was his first time hurting someone. If she had the name of a convicted felon to present them with, maybe they might take her seriously and act swiftly enough to protect her mom.

Reading the panic and fear in her short emails, Lois wondered how any one could fail to become personally involved. But while she often felt it gave her an added drive when she was investigating, this time it wasn't helping at all. She was just reaching dead ends.

She had got hold of Kate's cell phone records and found the number that had to be Josh Kellerman's. It belonged to a pre-paid phone, now dead. She had quizzed Kate's colleagues about the man she had met at the club and got hardly any description. White, late twenties, dark hair, leather jacket. That was it. She had managed to read the file on her death and got nothing. There was nothing of substance, the only named witness the driver of the train, and he was too upset to even talk to her on the phone. He'd hung up on her as soon as she mentioned the incident.

Lois leant back in Clark's chair before resting her feet on the edge of his desk. She still hadn't got her old seat back so she was still on the wrong side of everything. Thinking about him made her stomach ache but she gritted her jaw against the painful recollections. She had gone to sleep last night certain that she had dealt with him the only way she could and woken up to the deep, dull pain inside her that she had quickly identified as shame. It didn't matter if he deserved a full Lane-style reckoning because there was something terribly wrong with him. Maybe it didn't present itself as sympathetically as Chloe's fragile chirpiness and tear-stained pillow but it came from the same place.

Deep down she had believed that if she pushed him hard enough, he would push back, just as he always did. But all his fight seemed to drained out of him, and she had been left with a cold, brittle shell.

Don't get too personally involved with colleagues, maybe that should be another commandment, she wondered. Except he had already been in her life, firmly entrenched and there was no shifting him, much as she would like to. It would be so much easier if she could walk away from the infuriating man, remove him like an aggravating splinter. But he wasn't under her skin, he was somewhere further in than that.

When the phone rang, she snatched it up gratefully.

"Lois Lane."

"Miss Lane?" And all thoughts of her former co-worker were gone from her head. It was his voice. Or kind of his because he used some device to alter it. This was the man who had turned everything upside down and who she had to set right somehow.

"I thought I said, call me Lois."

"Lois then. I read about you in the paper. Are you okay?"

"Yes, as well as can be expected given where I've been," she said cagily. Would he make reference to her visit to the future? Surely he knew.

"It sounds like you've had an eventful time."

"You could say that."

"Well." He paused and for a moment all she could hear was his breathing. It was a reassuring sound, to be reminded that he needed oxygen like any man. Sometimes it felt like he was beyond any normal man, something supernatural almost. But she couldn't let him ever know that, he had to feel removed from normal people as it was. Maybe people had called him a freak or he just feared they would if they knew. "I just wanted to know you were okay. When you didn't turn up…"

"You went to the phone booth?" She gasped.

"You were in the path of a lot of destruction that night. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Does that mean you were planning on going anyway?"

"Does it matter now?"

"Is that a yes?"

"I came too late anyway."

"Is that a no?"

He laughed and Lois felt a warmth spread through her. She had made him laugh, it didn't matter if it was at her, she had still provoked a reaction in him. A good reaction. "Lois, do you ever give up on anything?" Lois winced at the memories his words evoked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just…been a tough week."

"I understand." And then she heard it in his voice, even his distorted faux-voice, a tone she had heard noticed in Clark.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Of course."

"It's just when we last spoke, it kind of sounded like the last conversation we'd ever have."

"It turned out differently than I imagined," and rather than sounding glad, he sounded disappointed.

"But you're still here, so that's a good thing. I've read how busy you've been."

"It's what I'm here to do."

"I guess." There was a moment of silence down the line.

"You don't sound convinced."

"It's just that…" She couldn't believe she was about to say this to him. But he had called her. This was the third time now. And the Legion had said he was in trouble, maybe what she was supposed to do was counsel him. The only problem with that idea was that she was batting nil for one at the moment. Maybe avoid the tough love approach, she thought. "It's just you don't sound too good."

"Thanks," he replied drolly.

"I mean you sound tired. And as strong as you are, the last few months have got to have been tough on you."

"I did look for you," he said suddenly. "I looked everywhere. But I couldn't find you."

"Oh." She was stunned. "I meant more stamina-wise."

"Ah."

"Yeah." Lois wondered why she had opened her mouth to correct him. Why couldn't she stop herself when she really needed to? If Clark had been here he would have rolling his eyes at her. Imagining him in the room while she was talking to the blur made her feel even more uncomfortable so she blurted out, "But that's really sweet of you."

"Sweet?"

"The thing is I'm kind of worried about you."

"Me? Why would you be worried about me?"

"I don't know. I just have this bad feeling. Like you're not very happy." There, she had said it. And now what had been an embarrassing situation had morphed into a conversation-killer. Why, oh why, did the Legion ever think she was the person for the job? She was as subtle as a freight train. With a fog-horn. And some streamers.

"Like you said, it's been tough. I should really go now."

"Hey, look, I didn't mean to go all late-night phone-in on you. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine."

"It's not that…"

"I don't want to come across all heavy or anything."

"Lois…"

"Totally get it, I'm not your confidante. I mean, you have people who do that for you I'm sure. I didn't want to imply…"

"Lois, there's a bank robbery taking place downtown?"

"Oh."

"That's why I have to go."

"Ah." She paused. "Which bank is that?"

"If I tell you, do you promise you'll wait ten minutes before leaving?"

"Are you kidding me?" Lois asked innocently as she tucked the phone under her ear and pulled on her jacket. "I always maintain a healthy distance from my stories."


	10. Chapter 10

It was funny how a new perspective could make you think so differently about your problems. For Clark, that new viewpoint had become as he lay on his face in another alley. He had gone out every night since he'd encountered the man who had attacked him, and for five days had found no trace. But on the sixth night he had found him again. And rather than getting the drop on him, the man had surprised him instead.

After that, things had gone much as they had before. He had been felled by the incredible pain lancing through his head and his attacker had just laughed at him.

The experience had been valuable in several ways. Firstly he had been able to confirm that however he was being attacked, it was by no visible weapon. Secondly he had been able to work out that the man enjoyed causing pain. And thirdly, he wasn't ready to kill him just yet.

All those useful insights had come as he lay in the gutter, not a single muscle in his body willing to do as he asked. The grit in his face was a clear reminder that sometimes he didn't make the best choices and he wasn't handling the situation with this threat well. But going to Ollie or even Chloe and begging for help seemed impossible. He had rejected them so completely that turning to them now would mean he was totally wrong about everything. He couldn't make all sacrifices mean nothing.

But maybe if he could talk to Lois, he might be able to get his thoughts in order and deal with the problem. Calling her the other night had been a big mistake. Hearing her flirt with him, hear her compassion and understanding, had just made being apart from her all the more painful. It would be easy to just pick up the phone and call her again but he knew afterwards he would be left with this bitter taste in his mouth. Similar to the taste of alley dirt he reflected.

If he could just have some of that phone-Lois as Clark Kent, maybe dealing with this would be easier. But she was so angry with him, he wasn't sure any half-meant apology would work. There was one thing that Lois could reliably be reached through. Her work. And there was only one story she cared about at the moment, he was sure. The death of her source.

It would mean resurrecting his old life temporarily but it would give him the brief fix of her he needed. So he needed to go and be a reporter. Which he would do as soon as he could stand.

-------------------

It was funny how changing your perspective could transform the whole picture. Lois had never believed Metropolis could look peaceful from any angle but looking down at it from Chloe's apartment, it seemed almost serene at night. Reality only intruded again when the sound of a siren drifted up from street level.

It was a useful technique, changing your view. Like looking at your life with a few millennia's perspective could teach you an abortive romance with a co-worker wasn't the end of the world. No, the end of the world was tied up to a man who you had an embarrassing phone-crush on and who was wearing himself into the ground.

The problem was she couldn't find the same kind of fresh angle on her two highest priorities. Well, three. The first was the man in question. How was she supposed to help him? He hadn't called again after their excruciating phone call and she wouldn't be surprised if he never did again. The second was her story on Kate's murder. She had tried to get the cops to listen to her again and got nowhere. They thought she was a crazy hack who couldn't see tragedy without thinking conspiracy. They had also ignored her claims about an unidentified man getting hold of information on the city's water supplies. Lois herself was confused about what the killer's plan had been. Whilst Kate had access to some important information that was hard to come by, the information wasn't of much interest to an ordinary criminal. The only thing she could think of was that he had wanted to pull off some kind of heist using the sewer system.

But she hadn't heard reports of any crime that fit that description and security around the water filtration plants and reservoir was pretty tight, so anything more ambitious seemed out of the question for this sick son of a bitch.

There was a third problem that she was also stuck on, with no clear idea to resolve it, or even if she should. Clark Kent was still in the wind and his continued absence in her and Chloe's life was making her realise how much they had come to depend on him. He was so solid and reliable that it had felt natural to let him make in-roads into her existence. Before she had had a chance to take stock, he had become one of her closest friends, her work colleague, and the man whose face crept into her dreams, sleeping and waking. Which meant the pain of missing him was starting to overwhelm her anger.

"It's a beautiful view isn't it?" Chloe's voice piped up from behind her. She had been quiet for a few hours, working on something on her computer, answering only in monosyllables to Lois' questions. Now she was standing behind her cousin, her hair tucked behind her ears and a contemplative expression on her face. "Jimmy loved the city you know."

"I know."

"Some days I hate it. Like I think we should all just have stayed in Smallville and carried on living like the outside world didn't exist. No Luthors, no meteors, no monsters." She laughed bitterly. "Not possible of course. But sometimes I wonder what it would have been like."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't Chlo."

"Maybe I'd be happy. But I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing now."

"Isis?"

"Right. And I might never have met Jimmy. I wouldn't change that for anything. Near the end, I think we knew that nothing would ever come between us again. It was like I could see the future stretching out in front of us and it was full of us together, and the life we would have. A home. Children. Old age."

"The future has a habit of biting you in the ass," Lois said, her voice softer than her sharp words. Chloe looked at her oddly, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I guess so. Things don't turn out like you expect."

"People don't turn out like you expect," Lois snorted.

"Ah, so the ban on talking about Clark has been lifted?"

"Who says I was talking about that idiot?" Chloe smiled.

"Oh I don't know, the incredibly subtle anvil you dropped into the conversation maybe? Or that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The look you always get when you're annoyed with him."

"I don't have faces to do with him!" Lois protested with indignation.

"Sure Lois."

"I don't! Why does everyone keep saying these things? You and Ollie act like there's some big joke going on and I feel like I'm the butt of it! What are you trying to say?" Chloe looked at her with pained sympathy and a touch of amusement, the Karaoke Look. Lois knew the look exactly because she had massacred several power ballads under the influence of alcohol with Chloe as witness. Her interpretation of Meatloaf's 'I would do anything for love (But I won't do that)' had been a particularly excruciating low-point. "You're laughing at me."

"I'm sorry cuz, it's just weird for me seeing this. I don't mean to laugh." Lois let the frown fade off her face. She couldn't stay mad at Chloe for very long, and she was too tired to even try. "Clark has always been easy to love but hard to understand. Right now it's hard to understand why he's doing this to himself."

"To you Chloe!"

"Oh no, this is all about him, make no mistake about that. He isn't a selfish person but when he is, it's because he's trying to protect himself from something he doesn't think he can deal with. So he closes himself off in case he gets hurt. You know that."

"But he wasn't responsible for what happened to Jimmy, the only person who was is dead."

"Clark didn't think that Davis was the same monster as that beast. And maybe he wasn't once. But we both made a mistake."

"No. Clark is being ridiculous, and he should be here with you. You need your friends right now, and when I was gone…I can't believe he walked away from his responsibilities."

"Lois," Chloe laid a hand on her arm gently. "He'll come back, I know he will. He always does."

"And what if he doesn't? He's so cold right now. So…"

"Alien?"

"Exactly! It's like that time we first met."

"Except with less nudity," Chloe said, trying not to smile.

"Right, no nudity." Lois crossed her arms moodily. "He only gets naked when he's struck by lightning, which explains the shocking state of his love life."

"These seem to be subjects you've been thinking about."

"The only reason I haven't killed you by now is you're family. But I have been known to change my mind."

"I'm sorry!" Chloe threw up her hands in surrender. "You just make it so easy sometimes!"

"Yeah, well, I like seeing you laugh, even if it's at my expense," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"You know, if you do ever need to talk about things with Clark with me…I have a lot of experience in dealing with…you know. Difficult feelings between friends." Lois bit her lip and ducked her head. In some ways it would be easy for her to unload all her fears and doubts on Chloe but she wanted to be strong for her. She couldn't afford to unravel in front of her cousin. She was far from back to her old self, if she ever could be. Her cheery demeanour was as much a fragile mask as Clark's ice-cold one.

And more selfishly, if she let that genie out of the bottle, how could she ever put it back?

"The only difficult feeling between Clark and me is that he's going to have difficulty feeling his face after I slap him into next week." Before Chloe could respond, Lois was rescued by the man himself, ringing her on her cell phone. She smiled with some menace as she answered the call. "Oh Kent, how sweet of you to call. It's funny, I didn't know the world was ending."

"Lois, can we talk?"

"We tried that Clark, it didn't work so well last time."

"I remember. It's about Kate Roberts."

"What about her?"

"I have something you need to see. Can you meet me and Detective Jones at the Planet?"

"When?"

"How about now?"

------------------------

Clark looked round at the bullpen, marvelling at how awkward he felt being there when the place had been like a home to him. The place always seemed strange without people in it, though he was glad that it was at this late hour. He could do without any uncomfortable questions about what he was doing back here. Thankfully his pass still worked but his computer access had been revoked. The Planet was slowly spitting him out.

The office also never felt quite right without Lois in it. Right now her seat was occupied by Detective Jones, his fingers steepled together in a thoughtful pose. Clark knew so little about the fellow alien and he suddenly wondered how well the man had known his father. Had Jor-El been as difficult in life as he was in death? He wanted to ask him about his home, where he was from, how he felt living as a stranger on earth. But instead the silence stretched on. Clark was scared that the older man wouldn't confess to any of the same feelings he had about being so out of place and his own heritage was such an uncomfortable subject that he didn't want to dare go near it in conversation. John Jones had always been a perceptive man, and his scrutiny seemed particularly keen this evening.

"When can we expect Miss Lane to join us?"

"She'll be here any minute, probably break a few traffic laws just to…uh, I mean, she always drives within the legal limit. Fast but legal." A smile graced the lips of the police officer for a moment.

"Don't worry Kal-El, I won't be hauling her downtown." He looked round at the empty office and observed, "You must miss this place."

"Not really." Jones gave him a sceptical look. "It was fun working here. But that part of my life is done with now."

"So why are we here?"

"Because I should have listened to Lois' source and now she's dead. I have to try and make some small amends."

"When you first came to me it sounded like you had other reasons."

"That was before you showed me the tape." Jones looked at the image on Lois' computer screen. Clark had been able to start up her p.c. and bring up her media player to show the dvd Jones had burned for him. It was paused, ready to show Lois when she arrived. Kate Roberts was frozen, staring at the rail track she was about to throw herself onto.

The first time he had seen this view of the platform, he had hoped somehow there would be a different end to the story. But it had ended as Lois had said. With an innocent woman dead. Seeing it on screen had changed something for him. Kate's death and the guilt he bore over it seemed lost in the wash of the other failures he had experienced over the last few months. Watching her fall in front of the Metro had brought her death into sharp relief. It wasn't about reaching out to Lois anymore. It was about finding the man responsible and seeing he was brought to justice. Especially now he believed he had an idea who he was.

"You cannot save every life Kal-El. Even your father came to realise that. Every man has his limits. He couldn't save his planet but he could save you. And you in turn saved this one."

"It's not enough," Clark said angrily.

"You are no god, if you think like that you will be guilty of the same kind of hubris that brought your home planet to its destruction." Clark was shocked at the implication.

"I'm saving more people every day, how can that be a bad thing?"

Jones shook his head. "If I had thought you would listen I would have tried to tell you this a long time ago. But you are still grieving."

"This isn't about Jimmy, it's about my destiny! My responsibilities!"

"You are not grieving your friend Clark," Jones said in a kinder tone. "You are mourning the loss of your innocence. You see now that your future would be filled with difficult choices and you recoil from them." Clark shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Very well." And so they sat in silence again, until Lois clattered down the stairs and swept onto the floor. She was dressed in jeans, a band t-shirt and a blazer. Her hair fell to her shoulders in rather disorganised waves. She was very, very pissed off. Clark realised at that moment that she was as beautiful as she was impossible.

He wasn't sure why he had even thought that, it wasn't appropriate, and it wasn't welcome. But it was undeniably true. Lois was always an uncomfortable truth, usually hitting him right between the eyes. If Lois caught any hint of his thoughts, she showed no sign of it, walking straight up to Jones and holding out her hand. The detective stood and shook it, no doubt noticing Lois' intentional slight of her friend.

"Nice to see you again Detective."

"Likewise Miss Lane."

"Are you here to play referee?"

"Not exactly. Clark came to me the other day and explained your suspicions about Miss Roberts' death."

"Not suspicions, I know."

"But as I understand it, you have no proof." Lois nodded tersely. She had still barely looked at Clark, who sat in his old chair feeling irritated and confused. "I hear you saw the report on her death. No witnesses were interviewed apart from the driver. But someone else did see her die." Lois looked at her screen and gasped.

"They wouldn't show it to me! Have you already…wait a second, how did you get into my computer?"

"I guessed your password," Clark said in a flat voice. Lois actually blushed. "I didn't realise you were such a fan of his."

"Me and half the women in Metropolis," Lois retorted. "Don't worry, no one expects you to compete with a man like that. Show me what you've found." Clark stood with a sigh and took control of her desktop. He needed to get this over and done with as soon as possible. John Jones was looking like he wished he still had his powers so he could blast straight through the wall to get away from the two of them.

All three watched carefully as the fuzzy image of Kate wandered across the camera's view. She was walking backwards quickly, her steps stumbling. She paused at the edge of the platform and turned. She had her arms around herself and her whole body was shaking. Several times her frame seemed to buckle under an unseen pressure. Then a light began to appear from the bottom of the screen, reflected off the smooth tiles of the curved tunnel wall. The train was coming.

Thankfully at the fatal moment, the camera view was from behind the train, so Lois did not witness her actual death. But the lead-up was horrifying to see. Clark could see Lois' shoulders stiffen as the Metro sped into the station. Kate Roberts had been so scared at the end.

But not alone.

"She was looking at someone, wasn't she?" Lois suddenly said. "That's what you found."

"It's all in the second camera view, the one covering the other side of the platform." Clark clicked on the next snippet of footage and Lois watched in amazement as a man walked up into the frame. His face was hard to see in any detail but he fit the vague description of Kate's seducer. And he was looking straight at where Kate was standing. He was talking to her as well, calling out something but the cameras didn't pick up audio. When the time-stamp on the bottom corner of the image matched the number for Kate's death, something strange happened.

He laughed.

It was clear to see, even without the sound.

"That monster killed her, didn't he?" Lois hand hovered over her throat as she had swallowed something toxic.

"There's still no proof of that," Jones pointed out. "Their entry into the station together and his strange behaviour is suggestive but would be laughed straight out of court."

"But he did it! Somehow he forced her to jump."

"I think he may be meteor-infected," Clark said quietly. "She was in pain, that's how he made her jump."

"There were no visible signs when he hurt her," Lois said thoughtfully. "How could he do that?"

"Perhaps some control over her nervous system. Didn't she say that when they first met, his effect on her was chemical? It's all conjecture though. And totally impossible to prove."

"No I meant, how could he do that? How could he laugh?" Lois' hand now curled into a fist. "We have to stop him. There's no way he won't try and hurt someone else."

"More importantly, it means it's likely he's done this before. Somewhere there will be traces of this man," Jones said. "His appearance on this is too vague and generic to i.d. him. But perhaps I can find something on VICAP."

"You'll help me?" Lois said.

"This is a very dangerous man Miss Lane, it's essential we stop him. I have enough here to suggest something untoward was happening between the victim and this man. Re-opening the investigation into her death may be difficult but I'm going to talk to the water board about their security."

Clark stared at the paused footage of the killer. His build and effect on Kate were suggestive enough but his expression as she died was conclusive. He knew this was the masked man who had almost destroyed him twice. He tore his eyes away from the screen and saw the quiet of the bullpen around him. His old chair opposite him stood empty. From this perspective, it looked like he had disappeared.


	11. Chapter 11

Maurie Green had told her when you were close to tying up a story, you could smell it. He said it was somewhere between mown grass and a rain storm. Lois had pooh-poohed such a ridiculous notion until the third week of her investigation. That's when she noticed something like the smell of strong, black coffee. The kind that started eating your oesophagus away as you swallowed it. Her favourite type.

Of course the story didn't really have a smell, it was more a sensation that crept up on her until she was certain that she was within touching distance of the big break. She was going to crack this thing soon.

"Two thousand words on Miss Metropolis." Lois looked up at the city editor with horror. Surely he didn't mean what it sounded like he meant. "No. No, whatever you're about to say, forget it! You've wiggled out of every job I've given you the last two weeks and I am done with your excuses."

"But I have this outpatient appointment…"

"I don't care if you have a brain haemorrhage in the middle of the swimsuit round, you are doing it."

"But sir," Lois tried to smile sweetly. "Isn't a little sexist to send a woman to a beauty contest?"

"I don't consider you a woman Lane, I consider you fired if you don't do this."

Lois groaned as her boss stomped off to give someone else a piece of his mind. She'd known it would only be a matter of time before he noticed she was ignoring her normal workload but for him to notice now? And a beauty paegent? She couldn't dash off two thousand words, there was no escaping it. It meant she was faced with some uncomfortable choices.

She could pursue Kate's story regardless and lose her job. Or she could go to the anachronistic cattle-market and write about girls forced to take their clothes off to fund their college education. Or she could go and get someone else to follow up the leads. She did know one person with a competent track-record but he also happened to have a large empty space where his brain used to be.

She tapped her writing pad for several moments turning it over in her mind. Then she grabbed the phone.

"Lois?" He sounded as surprised as she was that she had called. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Where are you anyway, in a wind tunnel?" The rushing noise in the background died down and Lois began again, "Look, I wouldn't call if I hadn't hit a major snag. And much as I'm loathe to admit it, I do kind of trust you not to mess this up. Of course if you do…"

"I get the idea Lois, 'death would be a sweet release' etcetera."

Was he teasing her? Clark seemed positively giddy over the phone in comparison to his last stony-faced appearance. She hoped he wasn't getting any funny ideas that she forgave him.

"Believe it. I need to you to step back in time and try and be the competent reporter you once were, Krantzen is sending me to cover Miss Metropolis." There was dead silence on the other end of the line. "Clark, are you there? You're not speaking."

"I'm sorry Lois. I just don't want to laugh."

"Don't you dare, you know how I feel about those things!"

"Weren't you Little Miss Forces once? I seem to remember something about baton twirling."

Now there was no question, he was definitely teasing her! And on the subject of one of the most embarrassing experiences of her pre-pubescence. Did Chloe keep everyone's secrets but her own? "That _is_ interesting, do you know what else I find interesting? The fact you can't libel the dead. So pretty soon I'll be able to post whatever I want about you wearing your mom's pantyhose on the web."

"I do not wear tights Lois!" Clark said with horror.

"You'd do them justice Smallville." Lois stopped suddenly when she looked down at her pad. She was doodling meandering spirals and cute little stars. It was like she was back in eighth grade, talking to a boy she liked. She made a face and chucked her pen away. "Are you going to do this or not?"

"Of course, whatever help you need," he replied, all business again as well.

"I'm going to email you all my appointments okay. Do you still have your i.d. card?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, put on your journalist costume and go pretend you have a job. I can smell the story ripening!"

"That's probably those bananas you always leave in your desk." She hung up on him and began to gather her things for a day out of the office. She was already in the taxi before she realised her mistake. She had called him Smallville.

Three hours later and Lois found quiet corner of the conference centre in which to hide out from the contest's insufferable press officer. She called Clark as her first order of business and was relieved when he answered after only two rings.

"Tell me you have good news Kent, I'm going out of my mind here."

"You shouldn't inhale the hairspray then."

"From your good mood, can I presume you've got somewhere today?"

"The care home staff confirmed that he visited Kate's mother two days before he first tried to kill her."

"They recognised him from the video?"

"No, Chloe came up with an i.d."

"You spoke to Chloe?" Was she hearing right? Had Clark finally come to his senses? Was she actually chipping away at his self-imposed vow of idiocy? "Never mind, who is this scumbag?"

"Miles Styson. He spent two years in Leavenworth for assaulting an ex-girlfriend. He has a juvenile record but it's sealed. Detective Jones is seeing if the A.D.'s office will do anything about opening it but that could take a while. But two years ago he was lying low in Smallville during the meteor shower. Cops were looking for him because his neighbour identified him as the man who had kept her captive in her apartment for three days, torturing her. After the cops caught up with him he was given bail and she dropped the charges. No prizes for guessing why." Clark paused for a moment. "Lois, I…I let this man murder Kate Roberts."

Lois sighed. "Clark, you're a former journalist, this guy is a psychotic killer with meteor powers. It's not really an even fight."

"But…"

"I know, okay? I know. Do you think I feel any different? But we need to feed this guy to the cops now. We can wring our hands later." Clark drew in a deep breath and replied,

"You're right, I'm being self-indulgent. After his stay in Smallville, there's nothing else, until he turns up here."

"Has he got anything under his real name? Tax, phone records, hell, even a voting card?"

"Nothing. The audit trail dies on Styson after his last arrest."

"Okay. But it's huge progress. How did you work out he had to be meteor-infected?"

"This is Metropolis."

"True. What else have you got?"

"Detective Jones has got some cases that look like they could be his handiwork from VICAP. Kidnapped women from their teens to thirties, found dead with no wounds. But their hearts had all given out from stress. Five in two years."

"So his stay in Smallville gave him the ability to cause pain just with his thoughts and he decides to get more ambitious and kill his victims. That way he doesn't have to worry about witnesses anymore." Lois watched the smiling young women rehearsing the closing dance number on the stage. It was a jarring contrast with the world Styson had dragged Kate into. Once again she felt a deep sadness at the idea of the sweet-natured, moral woman being tormented in her final days. She had only deserved happiness.

"Have you found anything else out?"

"No luck elsewhere. I'm about to talk to the chief of operations at the water treatment plant." They concluded the call and Lois slumped against the wall. She hated being cut off from chasing Styson to the ground but Clark sounded like he had everything covered. Maybe she could count on him after all. She watched a redhead on the stage fumble catching her baton and snorted. Little Miss Forces would never have messed that one up.

----------------------------

Clark showed his identification at the plant security booth and was ushered in after a brief phone call between the guard and someone inside. As he walked up to the main entrance of the one-story building, he swept the area with his x-ray vision to get an idea of the area. He could see the huge pipes running from the West where the city's main reservoir could be found to a wing of the building. That was where the chemicals would be added to the water to make it safe to drink.

Detective Jones, Lois and himself had discussed the situation at length the night they met at the Planet and they had all conceded that there was one horrible possibility they couldn't afford to rule out. That someone would try to poison Metropolis' water supply, either in an act of terrorism or to hold the city to ransom. Such a bold and dangerous plot didn't fit with their profile of a sadistic killer like Styson but it was possible that he was the tool to gain crucial information. Clark was hoping he wouldn't find any hint of such a plot in evidence at the plant.

He was met at the door by the chief of operations' personal assistant and let to the meeting room where he would be carrying out his interview. Moments later he was joined by Patience Riggs, a middle-aged African-American woman, who was in charge of the day-to-day running of the facility.

"Well Mr Kent, I'm surprised that after all her phone calls, Miss Lane didn't turn up herself." Clark smiled faintly.

"Unfortunately she was reassigned to another story."

"That's where you have me at a loss, because I fail to see the story here. However, I want to reassure your readers of how seriously we take the business of supplying their water. What would you like to know?" Clark ran threw the list of questions Lois had sent him, showing her the image of Styson, asking about any strange behaviour amongst the staff or security problems. Nothing seemed to be amiss. When he asked for some more information on how the plant worked, she offered to take him on a whistle-stop tour.

It was while he was in the laboratory that he met Stephen Goldfield. Riggs introduced Clark to the grey-haired scientist, explaining that he ran the team that controlled the delivery of the treatment chemicals. Goldfield looked distracted at the start of the conversation but as his boss explained that Clark was a journalist, he grew a little pale. Observing the man's discomfort, Clark showed him the picture of Styson.

"I'm afraid I've never seen this man. How's he connected to your story?" Goldfield was still holding the picture of the killer in his hand.

"We believe he might have accessed information belonging to the water board."

"Nothing to worry about Goldfield," Riggs smiled politely. "Now, we should let you get back to your work." Goldfield nodded and handed the image back to Clark. A minute tremor in his hand confirmed Clark's suspicions as he said goodbye to the man. After concluding the tour, Clark returned to his car to wait. Thankfully it was close to five o'clock and he didn't have to wait long for the scientist to emerge into the parking lot. Clark watched him closely as he removed his cell, seemed to consider making a call, before throwing the phone to one side and starting his car.

Following him to his house in a well-to-do suburb of Metropolis was relatively easy. Goldfield seemed unaware he was being followed, and kept to below the speed limit the entire journey. Clark waited ten minutes before ringing the doorbell of the colonial-style house. The door was answered by a small girl, one hand tugging on the end of her pale blonde pigtail.

"Hello."

"Hi. My name is Clark. Can I speak to your Dad?"

"Okay." She turned around and left the door ajar for Clark to follow. Seizing the opportunity to gain access to the house, he entered the hallway before calling for Goldfield. He had the feeling that his visit would be less than welcome, so he had to press any advantage. If Goldfield had been compromised by Styson he was unlikely to crack under the strain of Clark's good manners.

The scientist and a woman in her fifties walked out the lounge together, shocked to see Clark standing there.

"I apologise for coming in un-announced. But it's urgent I speak with you sir."

"Stephen, who is this?" The woman, presumably his wife, demanded as Goldfield let out a small groan. "Is it…are you the journalist?"

"What are doing in my house?" He asked fearfully. "You have to leave right away!"

"I'm sorry but I can't. I need to talk to you about the man I showed you a picture of. His name is Miles Styson and he's extremely dangerous." Goldfield's wife shook her head and placed a restraining hand on her husband's arm. "I believe you know him."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"If he's threatening you or your family, the police can protect you."

"If you don't leave now, I'm going to call the cops!"

"Sir, please, you must realise how…" And at that moment the small girl returned shrieking wildly, with a larger boy chasing her.

"Tommy hurt me Grammy!" She wailed, her face contorted into a red expression of outrage. The boy looked round uncertainly at the adults, able to detect a charged atmosphere.

"Tommy, Claire, you go to your room now," their grandmother said sharply. The two children looked surprised at her tone so she modified it. "Please sweethearts, we just need to have a talk, just us grown-ups okay? We'll have supper as soon as we're done."

"I want Mommy!" Claire yelled. Mrs Goldfield looked at her husband meaningfully before taking hold of the children and shepherding them away. Clark had the opportunity to look at the family portraits arranged on the hallway walls as they left. Goldfield and his wife stood with a younger woman who had Claire's pale hair and the scientist's aquiline nose.

"Your grandchildren are staying with you at the moment?" Clark had a feeling the explanation for the man's nervousness lay in the absence in the house. The Goldfields' daughter.

"My daughter is out of town on business," he said curtly. "Please leave. Please." His voice had a pleading note in it that wasn't there before. Clark knew if he left now then they wouldn't readmit him, so he needed to stall for time.

"Of course. If you'll just let me use your bathroom before I leave? Then I'll leave you in peace." Clark was walking in the direction of the bathroom before the man could stop him. A quick x-ray of the house showed him the room he needed and he stepped through quickly, locking it behind him. Goldfield banged on the door behind him but Clark shut him out. He took his cell out of his pocket. He needed to let Lois know how serious the situation was but he was finding it hard to concentrate. He felt so weary suddenly. He hadn't rested in a long time and he wasn't sure how best to deal with this man. All his confidence drained away as he stared down at the sink in front of him. He reached out to run some water so he could at least pretend he was using the facilities but nothing came out. His eyes darted to the side of the basin and saw something that sharpened his wavering attention to a pin-point.

It was a plastic dispenser of alcohol hand cleanser. The contents were a third gone. He pulled back the shower curtain. The bath was filled with plastic jugs and buckets, as well as over-sized, empty water bottles. Clark looked through the walls. There was no water running in the pipes, so he looked lower through to the basement. The valve which controlled the house from the municipal supply had been shut off.

If he'd had any doubt before, he didn't now. They had been wrong to shy away from the worst-case scenario. Kate had been targeted because her work gave her clearance to information on security around the plant and personnel data. She was a stepping stone to selecting an inside man, and selecting someone with a loved one who Styson would enjoy holding. Lois had been right about something though. This story did have a smell, and it was reminiscent of the acrid sweat pouring off Goldfield. It was the smell of terror.


	12. Chapter 12

"Rule Ten…"

"More like Fifty-Seven Lois."

"…MSG might pretend to be the friend of the reporter, and it gives you a lot of joy, but in the end, it will betray you." Lois let her head fall on to her folded arms and let out an unhappy moan. She was hoping a quick nap on her desk would help but though she was crashing after the Chinese food, she hadn't hit the point where she could sleep yet. This story was the most frustrating she had ever worked on and everything that had gone wrong in her life all seemed tied up in it. Not counting the ghost of her source, which meant she couldn't quit even if she wanted to.

She cracked open one eye and looked over at Clark. He looked even worse than she felt. Once again she wondered if he was sleeping much. She didn't want to go back into an argument over his crappy decision-making again, so she didn't ask. They had an uneasy truce at the moment. It was either business, or it was inconsequential banter. Almost like the way they used to talk in the old days.

"You should go home. You're worn out," he said gently. Lois lifted her head and saw an expression on his face that she had classified as one from his infuriating 'WTF' back catalogue. It was the kind of look that made her question everything that she thought she knew about their relationship and it enraged her. Truce was over.

"You know what, don't look at me like that Clark!"

"Like what?"

"Like you give a damn! Make up your mind already, do you want to act like a human being or not?" Clark seemed shocked for a moment and then leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, I don't do well with ignoring the elephant in the room but I have a lot of chill beef in me right now and it's making me edgy. Don't…don't do _that_."

"I'm not doing anything," he sighed.

"You're just so…so…ugh!" She gave up and slumped back in her chair. "You never used to be this difficult Smallville. You were so easy and obvious." He leaned forward slightly.

"And now?"

"Now I don't know what you are. I take one step closer and you take two steps back." Clark held her gaze for a moment before looking away pensively. "Forget about it okay, I should have kept my mouth shut. You shouldn't have brought Chinese, the come-down makes me cranky."

"Big Burger was closed," he replied. It had been their favourite burger place in the area when they were craving some cow late at night, especially since they had that killer secret sauce. How many times had they sat around like this in the bullpen, the office silent around them, the last to leave, again. Trying to hash out the details of a story together but their brains stalling to a halt. It was all so close to what it had been. Before the future.

"Why's it closed?"

"Health code violations." Lois wrinkled her nose unhappily. That cast a whole new light on the possible secret ingredients in the special sauce.

"So much for nostalgia. Did you see Chloe earlier?" Clark seemed surprised at the abrupt change of subject but nodded. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"How does she seem to you?" Clark rubbed his face with both hands before speaking.

"On the surface she seems okay. But she isn't. That's to be expected I guess. But she looks unwell. I don't think she's looking after herself. I don't think she's sleeping or eating much. I'm not sure she leaves the apartment very often. I think she's angry. Angry at everything." He gazed into the pools of darkness around them, his voice becoming quieter. "I was the same way when my Dad died. I wanted to hurt someone, anyone, just to get the pain out. Chloe isn't like that though, if anything, she'll turn the anger in on herself. She's punishing herself."

Lois bit her lip, trying not to point out that he was doing the exact same thing in reaction to Jimmy's death. Instead she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She hadn't been sleeping well herself.

"I don't know what to do to help her."

"You're helping her just by being there for her Lois." Lois felt she deserved a medal for not saying anything in response to that but she did make a face. "Please, don't say it. I had my reasons for staying away."

"Had? Does that mean your reasons are defunct?"

"No." Lois felt her brief burst of hope deflate but shrugged it off. He was hardly going to abandon his ridiculous isolationist policy because they'd had take-out together. He was far more stubborn than she had given him credit for.

"Coffee?" He appeared relieved she hadn't decided to pursue that argument but also looked confused.

"I thought you weren't drinking the coffee here?" Neither of them had been drinking water from the mains supply since Clark had been at the Goldfields' although the EPA had secretly tested samples of the water and found nothing amiss. Detective Jones had finally been able to produce enough information to convince his Lieutenant that Miles Styson was at work in the city. Combining the strange footage of Kate's death, Styson's i.d. by the care home staff and the case of a young woman who had nearly abducted by a man she thought was Styson several weeks ago meant the cops were now actively pursuing him. But proving that he was involved in a plot to poison the city's water was trickier. No one wanted to press too hard on Goldfield if his daughter was being held captive and tentative approaches by Jones had been violently rebuffed. The man was nearing breaking point but he still wouldn't say anything and his wife was also tight-lipped.

Jones and three other detectives were alternating sitting on Goldfield to see if he gave anything away but they had to be cautious. If Goldfield was being watched by the kidnappers then they had to make sure they weren't detected themselves. The EPA were continuing to monitor the water after it left the plant to make sure nothing entered the system without them realising. They were caught between acting decisively and shutting the plant down, causing a water shortage and causing panic, or playing a waiting game to see if there was any plot. The F.B.I. were beginning to make noises about taking control of the situation.

They were at a stale-mate until something else broke in the case. It also meant Lois couldn't print a word of it. Only if and when the people behind the plot were safely behind bars could she even suggest to the Planet's readers that they had been facing mass poisoning, otherwise she would cause hysteria. Thankfully Krantzen was currently too distracted by the office politics surrounding the editor's departure to notice Lois had gone back to following an unprintable story.

"I made it from bottled at home. I got that fancy machine remember?" She frowned as she pulled the flask out of her bag. "It should taste okay, I worked at the Talon long enough." Clark didn't seem reassured, he recalled the quality of Lois' beverages often depended on her mood that day. She went off to microwave two cups. A few minutes later she returned and presented a mug to him with a flourish. "There you go, one non-deadly cup of joe."

"Let's not go that far Lois, you did make it yourself after all." He ignored the pen that bounced off his head as he took a cautious sip.

"Clark! You'll burn your mouth!" She said with alarm. The mugs themselves were uncomfortably hot still. He looked up and swallowed uncomfortably.

"Oh yeah. Maybe I'll wait a while." They both watched the steam rising off the coffee, lost in their thoughts until Lois suddenly said,

"There is something that should be on there you know." Clark knew immediately she was referring to 'The Rules'. He had brought it into the office with him as a peace offering or sorts, along with the food, and she had been making jokes about it all evening. It was a way for her to remind him of their relationship, to try and pull him back to her. "Sometimes the story isn't the most important thing. Sometimes you have to forget the story. I believe in what we do, a hundred per cent. It might sound self-important to some people but we're…I'm doing a public service. Not always. Sometimes it's just about selling ad space or filling the page. But even something about a beauty pageant is entertaining or informing. And then you have something like Kate's death, and her life. The sacrifices she made to protect her mother. That was part of the reason she was an easy target for Styson you know, because she had worked too hard to have a support network that would see she was in trouble, who she could turn to. She turned to me because she was the sort of person who believed rooting out corruption was important. She was prepared to risk her job to help me out with that story when she first got in contact with me. All that goodness, all her strength, made her vulnerable." Lois put her hands round the mug in front of her as if it to ward off the cold. "People should know what happened so her death doesn't just sink to the bottom. But protecting the living is more important."

"Sometimes you need to hold back, to keep secrets, to protect people." He said gravely. She smiled faintly, her weariness sapping the cutting tone from her voice.

"And sometimes you're just an idiot Clark." He stared at her for a moment and then let out a short laugh.

"Maybe you're right."

"I'm _always_ right. Matter of fact, that should be the new rule." She reached for the list lying between them but Clark snatched it out of her grasp.

"It's perfect as it is. I don't think we need any new rules."

"Says the idiot," Lois muttered as she sipped her drink.

"Says the idiot," Clark said firmly as he shut the list in his old desk drawer. Lois glared at him over the rim of the cup but she was secretly pleased. Maybe she couldn't recreate the past but he wasn't able to let go of it as easily as he made out.

--------------------------------------------

Clark woke in the night with a dull ache in his head. He looked round at the office and realised he had fallen asleep on his old desk. He knew he should leave. He had to search the city for Styson as he did every night. The last time he had encountered the man was only two nights ago, and he was still trying to shake off the after-effects of his attack. Somehow the killer had been able to detect his approach as he followed him out of a gloomy bar in Suicide Slums and once again cripple him with pain. It had been even more agonising on that occasion, as if Styson had only been learning how to manipulate his alien physiology before and now was able to truly unleash his full force.

He had discussed his approach with Chloe and she had been horrified that he had tried to engage him in a physical confrontation. Styson had to be handled more intelligently but so far they hadn't hit on any ideas.

He tried to push back from the desk but found his muscles totally unwilling. A dark cloud swept around him and cushioned his descent back into unconsciousness.

When he next began to wake, his first sensation was of extreme heat. His skin felt like it was on fire. He breathed in sharply and then felt a searing pain shoot through his skull. Groaning he tried to co-ordinate his limbs. It took him what felt like an eternity to realise he was lying on his desk still, his head resting on his arms. The bright light flooding in from the windows made him screw his eyes up tightly. Then he heard someone walk up to him. It took a while before he could work out someone was trying to ask him something.

"Clark? Clark? Hey buddy, are you okay?" He could make out the vague shape of one of the sub-editors. She touched the back of his hand and he felt as if she had touched a brand to his skin. "Whoa, you are jumpy this morning. You been on the sauce or something? I think you need this more than I do." She put something down in front of him and the pain in his head was cranked up a notch. Clasping his head and moving back from the desk as far as his shaky muscles would allow him he saw what she had left him.

A glass of water.

"You here early or did you stay all night? Because it's sometimes hard to tell with your monochromatic wardrobe if you've even changed," Lois' voice cut through his fog as she strode up to him. She leant against the desk and tore into a pastry with her teeth. "Hey, you alright? You look sick." Lois' eyes darted to the glass of water in front of him. "Tell me you didn't drink that."

"No. Lois…I…" His voice came out as a thin gasp. Lois' eyes widened and she grabbed him by his shoulders. She didn't seem to be causing him the same pain as the woman had but the ache flooding through his entire body was still increasing in intensity, and his head felt like it was cracking open. The bullpen was growing noisier as people began to arrive for work and Clark knew he had to escape. His mouth and throat was beginning to burn as if the air was toxic. "I need to get some air. Up on the roof."

"Clark you need to see a doctor, you look awful!"

"I'll be fine after some air," he managed to grind out through clenched teeth.

"Now is not the time for your medical phobia," she snapped back. She placed a cool hand on his forehead and he nearly moaned with pleasure at the temporary relief it brought him. "You're burning up. I'm taking you to the E.R. right now." He took hold of her hand between his and squeezed it, trying to summon as much of his self-control as possible.

"Lois. I'm fine. It's probably just the shrimp from last night. If I still feel unwell in a few minutes I'll…I'll hail the taxi myself to go to the hospital." She still looked unconvinced but sighed.

"Okay. Just as long as you promise you didn't drink any water." He nodded and rose unsteadily from his chair. He managed to keep it together until he got into the elevator. He leant heavily against the wall as it made its slow progress to the roof. He burst out of the doors on the top floor and made for the service exit. As he stumbled through, the noise of the city below almost knocked him backwards. But it wasn't the noise he realised that was making him reel. It was the city itself. He dragged himself to the edge of the parapet and looked out. The pain seemed to pulse in waves flooding out from every direction. It wasn't just the Planet making him sick, it was every person, every building, every street.

He fumbled for his cell phone and managed to find Chloe's number as he slumped to the tarmac, the edges of his vision already turning dark. His body cramped suddenly as he held on to his phone desperately and when the spasm passed he placed the call, blindly pressing at the buttons.

"Hello?" Her voice seemed far away and everything now seemed to be slipping further and further away. But if he passed out before getting help, he knew he might not wake up again.

"Kryptonite."

"Clark?"

"…The…they put it…in the water…Kryptonite." And with that he let himself fall into the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

Writing the news wasn't an exercise in delayed pleasures, all the good stuff went up front. Clark Kent wasn't like that. Admittedly on their first meeting it had seemed he possessed some interesting features, not just the fairly buff physique but the amnesia and the bizarre behaviour.

But then it had turned out he was Clark Kent, the flannel-clad farm-boy who had been unknowingly tormenting Chloe for years. That mystery had been over almost before it started but then another one had replaced it. What did that Eagle Scout have that could have captured the heart of her smart, funny, ambitious cousin? Hell, she wasn't even sure how he had caught the eye of Lana Lang, who seemed like a capable girl, even if she did have big doe-eyes and shampoo ad hair.

He was so annoying! And always acting like he was the one in charge when she was the older and far more savvy half of the pair. A guy like Oliver Queen sold you from the start. Blond billionaire, yes. Bumbling teenage boy, no.

But Clark was like one of those books that you were regretting picking up after one chapter but if you stuck around, slowly you started to get sucked in. And before you knew it you were hooked, and you were grateful you had persisted. By the time you put it down, you felt different about everything. A book like that could change your life. A man like that could change your life.

Or he could make you curse his name the whole drive to Smallville, your anger keeping the worry at bay. When Chloe had rung her earlier that afternoon to ask her to look in on Clark, she had already been panicing. He hadn't been answering his phone since he went to get some air. But she hadn't found him puking his guts out on the roof or anything, so she had to conclude he'd taken himself off somewhere to rest. Chloe had then let her know he was still unwell and was holed up at the Kent house. So she had dropped everything and driven straight to his side, frustrated beyond measure that he hadn't chosen to let her know how he was doing. By the time she pulled up in front of the farm-house, Lois was ready for a fight and she didn't even knock on the door. She bowled right on through to the kitchen, yelling his name.

"Clark? Clark, where are you hiding?" She turned around and saw a glimpse of dark hair over in the lounge. She walked over to the couch and saw him lying prone, his head propped on a cushion, one arm lying over his stomach, the other trailing on the floor. His eyes were closed but his face was screwed up tight and his body was wracked with fine tremors. She placed a hand on his cheek, his skin was clammy and cold. She grabbed a throw off the back of the couch and threw it over him, tucking it around his body. She crouched down beside him and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Smallville?" She whispered. "Hey, are you okay?"

He let out a groan and shifted slightly, the couch creaking under him as he turned his head. He was totally out of it. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, her limbs weak. That was when she realised something funny. Who else but Kent could wipe away all her hours of anger in just 30 seconds? She had been kidding herself since she came back, believing that she could maintain the distance between them, keep hold of her rage towards him. As disappointed as she still was, he had her. He didn't have her with the first line, or even the second. But somewhere around the fifth paragraph, he had got hold of her tightly. And it hurt.

"Chloe? Yeah, I'm here now," she whispered down the phone after moving a little further away from him. She could still see him though, she wasn't ready to let him out of her sight yet. "He's in rough shape, I don't know what's wrong with him. Maybe he has a fever? I don't know, I flunked first aid."

"It's probably food poisoning or something."

"I don't know Chloe, I don't like this."

"You've just never seen him ill before."

"I've seen him shot before! He looked better then," she hissed. "I'm going to call a doctor."

"Lois, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" Lois was shocked. What was Chloe saying? She sounded like this was some everyday occurrence but Smallville was never sick. Never. He was like a brick. A whole load of bricks. "Just because the guy has some fear of needles or whatever doesn't mean we leave him to bleed to death…"

"He's bleeding?"

"No. Maybe internally. Who knows what's wrong with him!"

"Okay, okay. Look, leave it two hours and if he hasn't improved I'll get someone out there."

"What, you got your own physician on staff now?"

"Oliver does." Lois frowned.

"Since when are you so pally with Queen anyway? You trading stock portfolio tips now?"

"You were gone for a while Lois, Oliver was someone to talk to when Clark wasn't around." Lois wasn't sure that was the whole picture. She had her suspicions that Chloe knew how the businessman liked to while away the lonely hours wearing green leather and that she was involved with his extra-curricular activities somehow. But for whatever reason, they didn't want to tell her. As much as that idea stung, she could live with it. She was used to being kept in the dark, which was one of the reasons she liked being a reporter. If she wanted to dig into the lives of the people she loved she could find out their secrets, at least she could console herself with that. If she was ignorant, it was partly by choice.

"I'll call you," Lois sighed and tossed her phone into the easy chair. Standing in the middle of the Kent home, she watched the rise and fall of his chest with an anxious heart and wondered if it was just trust that meant she didn't invade Smallville's privacy. Part of her wanted to know badly. She wanted to push him sometimes, try and wear him down until he spit it out. But Chloe had worked it out, Lois knew she had. For years all she had talked about was Clark and his big mystery and then all of a sudden it had stopped. She had stopped wondering and maybe that was when she begun to stop being in love with him.

And hadn't Lana run from Clark into the arms of his former best friend? What drove a woman into an alliance with a sick manipulator like Lex Luthor?

"It can't be that bad Smallville, I know it can't." She knelt back beside him and allowed herself an illicit pleasure, touching the inside of his arm, something too intimate for the current terms of their relationship. He never talked about being adopted and he had always been incredibly close to his parents. She had rarely seen a family so full of open affection and respect. But surely his fear of being alone, his secrets, surely this all came back to that. Somewhere out there was a mother and father who had decided to give him up and until the Kents had come along he had been all alone in the universe. No matter how unconcerned he seemed with his start in life, she felt instinctively that it was an important part of who he was. Had he always felt different from the other kids? Did he look out at the stars through his telescope and wonder where he came from? He was vulnerable in a way some children never experienced.

When her mom had got sick she had learnt about that vulnerability. Sometimes life took your little safe world away from you and there was a gulf between you and other people. They didn't realise how easily love and security could be snatched away. It was a lesson most people learnt one day but Clark had known from the start.

They had things in common, strange as that might seem. But the strength he had forged from his painful early life seemed more impressive to her than her own approach. He wasn't brash or aggressive or cynical. He was trusting and kind and generous to people. He seemed to believe in everyone, even a sure-fire disaster like Lex. She had always admired that, even when she decried his trusting nature. But there was a definite end-point to his trust. He would risk his life for a person of dubious character but he wouldn't open himself up to those closest to him.

"Risk your life, not your heart," she said to him. Then she smiled lopsidedly, "More in common than we'd like to admit Smallville." She picked a cushion up, placed it under her and sat down to watch and wait.

----------------------------------------

Lois watched the doctor drive away, her fears only slightly alleviated. She had stepped out of the room whilst Dr Emil had examined him and when he had called her back, he had been quick to reassure her. But he had left his card in case she noticed any change in his condition. The doctor had said it was just a virus, probably picked up as a result of him not looking after himself properly. Lois had the feeling when he was speaking that he had met Clark before. But he was never sick, so she wasn't sure how.

She had asked him why the thermometer from the Kent's first aid kit seemed to be showing a completely physiologically impossible temperature and he had told her it was probably broken. As long as she kept him warm when he was cold and cooled him down when he was hot, he should pull through himself. When he was ready to wake up she could give him a few headache tablets and get him to drink but his strength should return soon.

Now she was alone with the patient again.

She wandered back to the lounge, checking that Clark was still sleeping and then went into the kitchen. Pulling open the cupboards she saw there were spare of anything but canned food. The fridge was similarly barren. Wherever Clark was staying nowadays, it didn't seem like it was here. He always kept a well-stocked larder, something she had often taken advantage of. He was full of surprises nowadays though.

She found some Pop-Tarts which were still in date and turned on the toaster. As she stood waiting for them to cook she realised that it wasn't a coincidence that they were her favourite flavour. She had discovered them when she became responsible for feeding Lucy every morning and they still reminded her of sitting at the breakfast bar, bossing her little sister into finishing her OJ. Smallville hated them, having been spoilt with Martha's cooking when he started his day. He had bought them for her.

To distract her from the alarming thoughts this discovery was provoking, she decided to call Detective Jones. It took only a few minutes to establish that nothing whatsoever was happening on the case. Goldfield was still sweating it out, going in to work every day as if nothing was wrong, and there was no sign from the EPA that the water was anything but normal. People were starting to get antsy, talking about pulling surveillance or bringing Goldfield in, seeing if they could break him.

Lois had the feeling either course of action would spell disaster but she didn't need to tell the detective that. She ended the conversation and took her lightly charred dinner back through to Clark. Sitting on the arm-chair facing him, she tucked her feet under her and chewed distractedly on the food. It didn't taste too good. Maybe she should have made porridge for her little sister. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, chastising herself for the sudden burst of self-pity. So she hadn't been a great substitute mother, Lucy might be a screw-up but she refused to feel sorry for herself. So what if the case was falling apart and bringing Styson to justice looked ever more remote? So what if Clark was driving her nuts. So what if he was ill. So what if she was afraid.

"…lois?" A weak voice rasped. She raised her head, blinking back the tears. Clark's wan face was turned towards her and his eyes were open a crack, as if the light hurt his eyes. She put the plate to one side and hurried over to him.

"Hey Smallville, how you feeling?"

"I've been better," and he coughed violently. "Sorry." He caught his breath for a moment. "What time is it?"

"Nine. You've been asleep most of the day. But the doctor says you'll be fine, after some rest." Clark's eyes shot open at the mention of a doctor and she said quickly. "It was Dr Emil, he works for Oliver." Clark seemed to relax and Lois filed away his curious response for later consideration. "How are you feeling though?"

"I'll be okay," he tried to lift himself up off the couch but struggled. Lois placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere. You don't realise this Kent but you are my prisoner." His lips quirked into an uneasy smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I am not leaving your side until you are back on your feet. You have scared me enough for one life-time."

"I'll be fine Lois."

"Oh no, you are going to submit to being my patient or you are really going to find yourself bed-bound," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Have you been watching 'Misery' again?" He asked wearily.

"Don't worry Clark, it will give us a chance to talk. After all, you've probably been wanting to explain to me what you've been doing all these months, and how terribly wrong you were. I'll get you some water." Lois smiled broadly as she went to get him his drink. Now he seemed like he was going to be okay, she could capitalise on the situation. If he didn't want a sponge bath, he was going to have to start listening to a few home truths.


	14. Chapter 14

Most people lie Lois said. That didn't make them bad, it just made them human. Full disclosure just wasn't possible in day to day life. So people told little lies, to protect themselves, to protect others, to make things easier. She told him this a week after his arrival at the Planet because he was having trouble in his interviews. Facts didn't seem to tie up and he didn't understand why. So Lois had sat him down and given him another of her journalistic gems. At first he suspected she was just being glib but when he'd seen she wasn't, he was disturbed.

He tried to believe people were basically truthful. He had raised this objection and she had shaken her head saying,

"Being truly honest is terrifying Smallville, so everyone lies. Even you." And she had given him this look, a knowing, wary look that said she had him all sussed out. That was when he had realised that she had never really been fooled by all the bad excuses and ridiculous stories he had always come up with to explain himself. But then she did something unexpectedly generous. She turned her chair round and put her feet up on her desk, giving him a lop-sided smile. "But you can't hold it against them, everyone has their reasons."

That was part of what made what followed inevitable perhaps. Their relationship had seemed to accelerate so fast that he wasn't aware of how he had got to where they ended up. But being in the Fortress had allowed him some time to reflect on the last year with Lois. Her forgiveness of his lies was what had made it all possible. Other people had always pushed against them, wanting to know what he was keeping back. He could hardly blame them, sometimes his stuttering explanations made him despair at how pathetic he sounded.

Lois didn't ask. Or she didn't ask much. She was apparently content to let his bizarre behaviour be.

She let him be.

Tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights. After she had returned from the kitchen with his water, she had tried to convince him to eat something. He had demurred, and asked rather that she help him walk to the bathroom. After some struggles he had managed to make it inside, making sure Lois didn't get any funny ideas about helping him relief himself. That, and the return to the sofa, pretty much wiped out his energy so now he leant against a carefully constructed pile of cushions and watched Lois make frustrated notes on her legal pad about the poisoning story.

Finally she felt satisfied she had let him recover from his exertions long enough and chucked the notes to one side.

"So Smallville." She tucked her legs under her in the chair and flexed her fingers, linking them so she could stretch her arms above her head languorously. Clark tried to study the ceiling as she settled back in her seat. He was disgusted that he was able to react to her at all given he'd been irradiated by an entire city of Kryptonite but then, well, she was Lois. Could he really be blamed? "Now we have some quality time together we can have that talk."

"What talk?"

"The talk about the last few months," she said sharply.

"Right." Good offense he thought, use some of those Lane-isms she's so fond of. "So where were you really?"

"What?"

"I checked that hospital you were apparently in Lois. You weren't there."

"What, you checked every hospital bed in the state?" She said sarcastically.

"Yes," he said firmly, holding her eye for once and pleased to see she was appropriately flustered.

"As if."

"I was unemployed, I had a lot of time on my hands."

"You missed one then. Anyway, I thought you were finding yourself in Asia?" She shot back. Clark could have kicked himself, how was he going to maintain that paper-thin explanation? Then another alternative presented itself.

"I'll admit I wasn't in Asia if you admit you weren't in a coma." She opened her mouth and then thought it over.

"Fine. I admit it."

"And so do I. So, where were you?" Lois fidgeted, twisting her fingers round the sleeve of his sweater. She had borrowed it from his room without asking of course. But since she looked so adorable swamped by its size, he could hardly complain. Lois was quite tall but thankfully he was still bigger than her. On a few occasions he'd had to use that extra size to block her path when she was about to waltz into a crack den to track down a bail-jumper or tear a strip off the city editor because he'd had the front to decide her story wasn't lead news.

She accused him of patronising her and being overbearingly paternalistic, reminding him she'd been trained by special forces on how to handle herself as soon as she'd hit dating age. He'd tried to explain to her that he had a lot of respect for her ability to handle herself but all the kung fu in the world wouldn't do much good if her perp was packing a gun or if the editor decided to sack her. He stood firm, and she would wait and try to sneak round him anyway.

So far he hadn't been forced to find out what happened when an irresistable force met an immovable object but recently he'd felt that day wasn't far off.

Lois' mouth was pinched as she deliberated over his question. "I can't Clark. I just can't." He knew then for certain that she had been in the future. After he had combed Metropolis' hospitals and morgues for Lois, he had begun to track her movements back that night. It was only during his third visit to the bullpen that he had seen the ring. It had been lying right under their desks, and as Clark had re-examined their things, he had become convinced they had been disturbed. Had someone searched through their stuff? Had Lois disturbed them in the process? But then there was the ring. If Lois had found it somehow, then her disappearance made sense. But not her non-reappearance.

Rokk had told him that the ring had been programmed to send the Beast to the Legion's time, and since they didn't want him to use the ring to escape, they had set it up so the ring wouldn't go with him. But if Lois had accidentally transported herself to the future, which didn't shock him, she was truly capable of getting herself into any kind of trouble going, why hadn't they sent her back?

Either the Legion couldn't. Or she hadn't ended up with the Legion.

The realisation of what consequences his carelessness could have had were devastating. The thought of her trapped in some future reality, cut off from everything that she cared about and understood was a debilitating idea. Spending long days in the Artic had made him come to realise how debilitating Lois really was. She was a weakness he couldn't afford. If she ever came back, he would be overjoyed. He would want to see her, speak to her, hold her but he couldn't. He had to stay away from her, just like he had to stay away from everyone else.

She had come back and he had been unable to stay away. Lois hadn't told Chloe where she had been and it seemed she was holding something huge back. Was she choosing not to disclose anything because of the possible ramifications? What had she learnt? She couldn't have learnt his secret. He had seen what that did to her and he egotistically concluded that she wouldn't be able to conceal a reaction like that from him.

But she knew something. Something that was weighing her down, and had been there all the time, underlying her grief over Jimmy and Chloe, and her anger over Kate Roberts. Whatever decision she had made, she felt it was a burden she couldn't share. He had to accept that, even though he desperately wanted to help her.

"Okay. I understand." She smiled gratefully at him. "But I'm not telling you what I was doing either." The smile disappeared before being replaced by a frown.

"Hey, you look a little pale. Try and get some sleep for a bit." He was about to protest but knew it would do no good. He was feeling tired after all, his head still ached and his muscles were like jelly. He closed his eyes and heard Lois approach his side. He felt her lean in towards him and press cool, soft lips to his forehead. "I'll be right here."

-----------------------------------

As Clark watched Lois sleep he pondered why someone had put Kryptonite in the water supply. As a way to kill him, it was inefficient and heavy-handed. Styson also had the ability to kill him, he was convinced of that, and the team he was working with would hardly try and finish him off in such baroque style when they had access to someone who could get the job done with relative ease. In fact, the agonising consequences of encountering Styson were what had concealed the presence of the meteor rock in the water around him. Looking back now, he was certain yesterday was the third day the substance had been in the water, increasing in strength each day. A slow, lingering way to try and kill him.

No, this was about something else. But trying to work out what was happening was the kind of speculation that felt beyond him right now. Every inch of him ached, and although he hadn't thrown up in a while, his throat still burned. The air no longer felt toxic but he had absorbed enough in Metropolis to do him damage. The sight of his blood in his hands as he had violently hacked up on arriving home had terrified him. He had no idea how bad the damage was. Thankfully Bart had seemed to have shed much of his Kryptonite load, no doubt due to his impossibly fast metabolism, so his removal of Clark from Metropolis hadn't caused him too much extra harm.

It wasn't only the water in the pipes and sewers that was affecting him of course, it was the water the city's inhabitants had been ingesting for several days. Their bodies hummed with radioactivity, pouring out of them in the moisture in their breath and the sweat on their skin. Lois was probably one of the view people in the city whose continual presence wouldn't be fatal, although he had long told her she would be the death of him. The clothes she had been wearing at work had been dry-cleaned, so were free of the meteor rock. Her shower had of course doused her in the stuff but very little residue remained. She had showered after arriving at his place again, so now if he broke out into a cold sweat around her, it was because she was putting the screws on him, not killing him in tiny increments.

Clark watched her breathing change as Lois woke up and as she opened her eyes she saw him. Rubbing her face quickly he laughed despite himself.

"Don't worry, no drool."

"Ungrateful maggot," she snapped back, rearranging her hair. "And I never drool when I sleep."

"Really? How about that time you fell asleep on your notes and woke up with a pool of blue ink under your chin?" She snarled at him and got out of her chair. Her revenge was effected when he had to once again avert his eyes from her long stretches. She walked over to him, assessing his condition. "How you doing anyway? You must be better if you can risk pissing me off."

"No vomiting," Clark said, holding up his hand in a solemn vow. She smiled happily at her obedient patient and strolled into the kitchen, calling after him to see if he could handle any food yet. Once he had declined he listened to her pottering around, rummaging through his meagre stores for something edible. Eventually she decided on beans, and begun to heat them up in a pan.

Clark turned his head to take in the view of the field outside, the trees draped in gold light as the sun rose. He had forgotten how beautiful it was here. No matter what happened, the sun would come up over the farm every morning and the land would drink up its rays. Some things didn't change. But other things were in a constant state of flux. He would like to pretend that it was his Mom and Dad preparing breakfast a few metres away but those times were gone. His Dad was gone, Lana was gone, Lex was gone, Pete was gone.

Instead Lois was fixing a meal, and her presence in his life was just as fragile as those other lost friends and loved ones had been. That was what Jimmy's death and Lois' disappearance had demonstrated to him again. If he wasn't careful, he could lose her for good. And she was too important. Too special.

"Contemplating the homestead?" Lois asked, a spoon sticking out of the pocket of her jeans as she reappeared with her food.

"Something like that," he sighed. She walked over to the window, a soft smile on her face as she took in the view.

"Click your heels three times," she murmured. Clark studied her face as she stood there. How many times had he seen her stand in this front room of this house and look out of the window? Seen her hair tangled and her eye make-up smudged from a late night, seen her wearing his misappropriated clothes, and her toes neatly painted dark red. But had she always been beautiful and he hadn't quite seen? Had she got lovelier as she got older or had he just got a clue?

She didn't let him be self-indulgent very often and this time was no different. She turned round and started to devour her breakfast, asking him between gulps, "Chloe tell you what was in the sealed records on Styson?" Sometimes her rapid changes of subject left him spinning.

"Uh…yes. Yesterday. Or the day before I guess."

"I was thinking about it earlier. I don't know that it changes how I feel about him. Knowing how bad he had it as a kid. I feel like I should be able to have compassion but he scares me Clark. He enjoys hurting people, it gives him pleasure. How can I understand a person like that? Some days I believe in evil but some days…some days I don't think it matters."

"How could it not matter?"

"Because we talk about it so much!" She sat on the arm of the sofa, next to his feet. "How society is rotten and how we're all hurtling towards a hell on earth. It's trash."

"It is?"

"Of course. I'm not saying we're not capable of some truly awful things. And sometimes it seems like we've raised it an art-form. But what about goodness? We talk about evil all the time but never talk about decency. What is it, how do we cultivate it, how do we achieve it? Take the red-blue blur." She waved her spoon as she began to get into her subject. "You cracked my password because you know what he means to me."

"I'm not sure I do," Clark said uneasily. He wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation with her, it made him feel guilty.

"Of course you do because people in this city feel the same way."

"Which is?"

"He's a hero Clark!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with fervour. "Sure, he doesn't get everything right but he's something extraordinary. He carries this burden for the city, for people who don't even know his name and he never asks for anything."

"I thought you were this guy's super-fan, what does he do wrong?"

"Well, I'm hoping eventually he'll realise that he needs to let us see his face."

"Whoa, Lois, secret identity remember? Why would he out himself? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?"

"There are risks, of course there are. But think about it Smallville, why don't people trust the Green Arrow, or that bat-nut in Gotham?" He shrugged. "Because they operate in the dark! People aren't that complicated, they want to see the person behind all these amazing acts. They need a face, a name, to hang all these feelings to." Clark was taken aback. He hadn't heard the rationale behind exposing himself put like this before. "It doesn't matter what the Green Arrow does, people will also suspect him. It's not fair but it's how it is. They see he has something to hide and they want honesty, they want him to stand in the clear light of day and tell them they have nothing to fear. He has a relationship with the whole city and if you truly want to make a relationship work, at some point you have to drop the pretence, strip off, and expose yourself." Clark was alarmed at the images that presented, so decided to seize on an earlier sentence.

"Why do you say fear?"

"Clark, the guy is incredibly powerful. Who knows what he's capable of? That's going to scare a lot of people."

"But not you," he said with amazement. She snorted.

"Please, that guy doesn't have a scary bone in his body. I mean, sure, it's kind of a head-trip but once you get past that…I don't know. Does it sound weird? I trust him. Like I trust you." She looked at him and he found any words stuck in his throat. She shrugged. "Maybe it's crazy."

"You're usually a good judge of character." It was difficult to find a bland enough response to her comments. He didn't want to suggest she should have reservations about his other identity but then again, telling her this blur guy sounded like a decent proposition was creepy. He decided to go for a weak-sounding third option.

"Except when it comes to men of course," she said, throwing him an arch look as she went to wash her crockery. He was of course desperate to continue the conversation and also incredibly relieved. Lois keeping quiet about their late-night phone calls had prevented this scenario from happening before, and it was even more uncomfortable than he'd imagined it would be. She had some interesting ideas about what he was doing though and if there was a way to subtly draw out some more thoughts on the blur then he was going to attempt it.

He let himself slip again into a light doze again as Lois started whistling tunelessly. Only a few moments seem to have passed when he opened his eyes again. Light was pouring steadily through the windows now, and Lois was tucking the blanket around him, her hand resting lightly on his forehead. He took hold of her hand, and said in a sleepy voice,

"…lois?"

"Go back to sleep. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." And he sank back into sleep. But when he woke several hours later, he realised she had been lying. She was nowhere in the house and a quick look through the door told him her car was gone. Everyone lied she had told him and they usually had a good reason. It didn't take him long to find the note, pinned to the coffee table by a bottle of Advil.

'Dear patient,

Styson spotted by the city cops

Looks like it's going to break today

Sorry to leave you

Call you soon.

Dr Lois. M.D.'

He reached for his cell phone and called her immediately but the call rang and rang with no answer. A sick feeling of dread filled him. He had stopped lying to himself and pretending he wanted to keep his distance from her, and now he wasn't going to be able to get within ten kilometres of her.


	15. Chapter 15

As Lois stared in shock at Miles Styson's wide grin, she had a thought. Journalism courses also emphasised the subject's right to reply and it was the basis of any decent story that it was balanced. Up until now, she hadn't thought she'd ever get a juicy quote from Kate's killer. But it looked like he was very excited about making his own contribution to the article. The idea of hearing his opinions sickened her but worse was the idea he might get his point across by torturing her to death.

When she'd left Clark's side around eleven that morning, she had had quite a different day in mind. She had felt guilty about abandoning him but when she had intercepted Detective Jones' call to his cell, she had decided to return to Metropolis. She had called Chloe on the drive in and extracted a promise from her that she visit Smallville if she wasn't finished in the city by the late afternoon.

If the police had Styson in custody already, she would try and get into the station and pry some information from the cops on duty. He was still probably being processed so if she was lucky, she would get there before the interrogation started. Unless Styson lawyered up, that might delay things even further.

As her mind turned over the possibilities she started to arrive in the outer suburbs of Metropolis. Seeing the neat family homes reminded her of Goldfield and his daughter. Had they told him his daughter's kidnap was in custody? Would they be able to prise her location out of the psycho? Impatient for more information she pulled into a gas station forecourt and called Jones. He didn't answer so she left a quick message and then called his station. Luckily she knew the desk sergeant, who had served with her father in Vietnam.

"Rodriguez."

"Uncle Joe? It's Lois Lane."

"Lo! How you doing kid?"

"Oh, you know me Joe, keeping busy."

"You found yourself a nice fella yet?" Lois rolled her eyes, Joe could be worse than any aunt. He was obsessed with seeing her domesticated, though he secretly enjoyed the fact she was as keen on entering the fray as her father had been in his twenties. "How about that respectable young man you hang around with?"

"Hah!" If she had a dollar for every time someone made that wild leap about her and Smallville, she'd have at least…well, nine bucks. "That lumbering cattle-farmer isn't exactly the kind of guy to light a fire under a girl." She wasn't about to mention that Clark had made it obvious he wasn't prepared to go down that road with her. When they were teasing each other it was easy to forget that he had stood her up after she had returned to Metropolis. The little things might say he could be interested but it felt like he had written his rejection that night in sky-writing. Was that why she had been so hard on him since she came back, because he had hurt her pride? She hoped she had a little more character than that.

"Seems to me like any young lady would be happy to date a nice guy like that," Joe said innocently.

"Fine, fine," she sighed. "He's perfect for me and our love is inevitable."

"I get it, keep your nose out. Now, you didn't phone to listen to me give you the benefit of my years, what are you after?"

"I wanted to know if Styson had been brought in yet?"

"Styson? No, they're still combing the area."

"Damn. Where was he spotted?"

"Someone called in to say they thought he was breaking into a warehouse down on Alders Steet. One of those furniture places."

"A furniture warehouse? Who reported it?"

"Anonymous, you know how it is, no one wants to get too involved," Joe grumbled.

"But they haven't got him yet?" Lois groaned and sank back into her seat. She didn't want to have abandoned a sickly Clark for nothing.

"They sent two cars over straight away but no luck. They haven't radioed in for a while so Jones went down there himself." Lois frowned.

"And that isn't weird?"

"They'll be canvassing the area. Look Lo, I gotta go, I need to check on the cells."

"Sure, sure, speak to you soon Joe." Lois hung up and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She tried to call Jones again but still got no answer. She had come all this way for nothing, and she'd even changed into her insurance suit from the boot so she wouldn't roll up to any crucial interviews in a Smallville High letterman sweater. Though she _did_ look good in it.

She considered ringing Clark to make sure he was okay but she didn't want to wake him up. If she was lucky she could make it back before he even realised she'd left. Still, there had to be something she could do in the city so the whole journey wasn't a waste. The people over at the EPA were refusing to take her calls anymore but she could try speaking to the chief of ops at the plant again. Get something on their extra security?

She dialled the number for Patience Riggs' office and was greeted with the voice of her personal assistant.

"Hi Clarissa, this is Lois Lane from the Planet? I'm about five minutes from you at the moment and I was wondering when Ms Riggs has an opening in her diary this afternoon for me."

"Oh I'm sorry Miss Lane but I don't think that would be possible. Ms Riggs has a packed schedule today."

"Surely she has five minutes for me, I just need a quick talk with her. Is she in her office now?"

"I'm afraid she's not in her office right now."

"But she's at the plant right now," Lois persisted.

"Of course, she's just showing the police the new security measures."

"The cops are out there?"

"Two patrol cars. You know Miss Lane…" And then the line went dead. Lois stared at her phone dumbly for a moment and then tried to make the call again. She went straight through to voicemail. Some days she really hated those things. She dialled the main office number, hoping to be put through that way.

"Come on, come on…Hi, this is…"

"…lines are currently busy, if you'd like to leave a…" Lois ended the call. Then she tried another number, altering the digit at the end of the p.a.'s number to reach some of the other personnel. Nothing. It seemed like every phone in the building was on voicemail. _That_, was not normal.

So if she wanted a quote, she would definitely have to drive out there. As she navigated her way to the plant, she kept a worried eye on the clock in her dashboard. Smallville was bound to wake up at some point, and he'd struggled to make it to the bathroom the previous day. What had she been thinking walking out on him like that? She consoled herself with the thought that he wouldn't really be able to call her on it, given his recent abandonment track-record. Hell, it would probably never even cross his mind to do it.

That put her right back at feeling guilty.

As she pulled up to the outside of the plant's main gate she removed her keys and sat for a moment studying the wire fence in front of her. The plant was quiet except for the low-hum of the machinery inside, the sun high in the sky, and uneasonably hot. It could have been deserted for all the signs of life she could detect. Even the security guard's station was empty. She took a swig from the warm bottle of water she had with her and tried to work out what was bothering her. The Marie Celeste vibe was creepy and the phone system on 'do not disturb' was annoying but it didn't add up to much concrete.

That was when she ignored her instincts and got out of the car. She popped her head into the stifling warmth of the guard station and looked round. Nothing looked off. She pulled out her cell again and rang Chloe. She was starting to get sick of making phone calls. She could have done that from the farm.

"Hey Chlo, you been out to the farm yet? Because I think I'm going to head back there myself now."

"Um no, I hadn't left yet. Where are you anyway?"

"At the plant. Seems like everyone's on a siesta. I can't even see the cops. Oh no, wait, I can see some guy coming this way." Emerging from one of the buildings was a beat cop, walking towards her at a steady pace. The sun was glaring down, so she squinted to try and see him more clearly.

"What cops? What are they doing at the plant?"

"I don't know. Hey, have they found Styson yet, you've always got a bead on what the police up to?" Lois heard Chloe typing away at her compter as she waved to attract the attention of the officer.

"Uh no. But something bad has happened down in the warehouse district. Sounds like a…oh no. Ten Double Zero."

"Officer down?"

"Four," Chloe said quietly. "Detective Jones found them."

"The two patrol cars." Lois turned her face away from the approaching police officer and said quickly. "Chloe, get the police down here now. They're here!" She ended the call and slid it into her back pocket before walking towards her car.

"Hey!" She was too late. But maybe she could still talk her way out of it. He was only a few feet away now, mirrored aviators on his face and his cap pulled down low over his face. "Ma'am, can I speak to you for a moment?" Lois paused and then turned, smiling brightly.

"You know what, I thought I was lost but turns out…"

"Hold on there for a minute." His hand was on the butt of his gun now. It all still looked casual but Lois' head was screaming at her to run. But she couldn't talk her way out of it if he shot her in the back. She could talk her way out of almost anything right? "Can I see some i.d.?"

"It's just in my car," she said cheerily as she began to walk backwards. The cop flipped a switch on his side of the fence and the electronic gate began to slide open.

"You know what Miss Lane, I don't think that'll be necessary."

"You recognise me from my byline picture! I'm flattered."

"Don't be. You look uglier in person," and he tilted his head at her, smiling. That was when he tasered her. As her legs collapsed under her and she lay twitching on the tarmac, she realised Tasers weren't duty issue for beat cops. And he hadn't even moved. No, this policeman had electrocuted her without even breaking a sweat. It was Styson himself. He walked up to her and grabbed the front of her blouse, hauling her up as he bent towards her to inspect her face.

On the up-side, her bladder hadn't failed her. On the down-side, she was in no position to stop a psychotic killer manhandling her. He also didn't seem to like her very much, which she suspected had something to do with her being born female. He pulled off his shades and grinned at her. It was a nasty grin but there was no glint in his eye or special look on his face that said how dangerous he was. She had wanted to be able to look Kate's killer in the eye and see some mark of Cain. But there was nothing. If there was evil, then it looked like everyone else.

But it felt like nothing else. Her whole seemed to have tooth-ache, a dull low throb that made her head dull and heavy. Even if her body had been able to move, she wasn't sure she could her brain to move it. Styson seemed to be enjoying himself though.

"You don't look that surprised. I guess you worked out who I am. How about I help you with that article you're writing?"


	16. Chapter 16

She wasn't sure what headline she liked better: STAR REPORTER STOPS POISONING PLOT or LOIS LANE SAVES METROPOLIS. Unfortunately, both seemed like a remote possibility, since BLUNDERING JOURNALIST TRAPPED IN STOCK ROOM was the current state of affairs. And she was probably heading for being a side-note in a story on the spiralling death toll.

She couldn't end up that way. She refused to. Unfortunately, the door to the stock room wasn't bending to her will, and remained resolutely solid. She dropped the fire extinguisher she'd been using to barely dent the thick door and leaned against the wall. She still felt shaky from the whammy Styson had put on her.

"You could help you know," she snapped at the other occupant of the room. Goldfield was sitting on an upturned crate, his skin grey and unhealthy, his suit hanging off him like a shroud. He lifted his head wearily and looked at her, he seemed to have barely noticed her presence since Styson had shoved her in here.

"I'm sorry. But it won't work."

"How do you know until you try?" She said tightly, trying to prevent herself from screaming at him. Didn't he realise that Styson was going to come back for them? He was going to kill her, she was sure of it. But then she twigged that he did know, and that was why he was sitting desolately, waiting for the inevitable. "Look. Look. We have to do something! I refuse to wait here patiently until that psychopath comes back and decides to finish us off."

"You're Lois Lane, aren't you?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Patience recognised you on the security cameras when you arrived. She told him you were writing a story about someone trying to poison the water supply. They weren't very happy to hear that."

"Where is she, Patience?" Lois asked impatiently.

"Dead." Lois stared at him dumbfounded. She had seemed so solid, so sensible. How could such a capable woman be gone just like that? How could a scrawny guy like Miles Styson wipe a woman like Patience Riggs?

"But why?"

"He doesn't need a reason Miss Lane," Goldfield said disbelievingly. "He _likes_ it. I don't know what happened to the others. Maybe they're in the cage in the loading bay. Maybe not."

"Okay, okay." Lois rubbed her temples, trying to get a handle on the situation. "We can't go through the door right now. What can we do? What do we have, weapons, phones?" She looked hopefully at the scientist but he just shook his head mournfully. She looked round the small room, trying to find anything, a concealed exit, a crowbar, a walkie-talkie. All she found was boxes of paper, printer cartridges and ballpoint pens. Piles and piles of stationery. Coffee filters. Toner. Paper cups.

The sharpest thing she could find in the windowless concrete box was staples. Not even scissors. She kicked a pallet of envelopes in frustration. Styson had confiscated her phone when he had dragged her in here, after checking she hadn't been calling the cops when he first saw her. Evidently he didn't consider 'Chlo' a threat. More fool him, she thought with satisfaction, her cousin would have the cops descending on this place in minutes. But even if they arrived before Styson fried her nervous system for kicks, she would still be a hostage. Hostages didn't always make it. And Styson seemed to have an itchy trigger finger. SWAT TAKE-OUT TERRORISTS: PLANET REPORTER ONLY CASUALTY.

But if she didn't do _something_ she would go insane considering the lurid headlines. She grabbed a pen and a pad from the shelf in front of her and then settled herself on the floor in front of Goldfield.

"Okay. Talk me through it."

"What?"

"I want to know everything. If we're not getting out of her alive, at least I get a posthumous byline."

"You want to write a story?" Goldfield was agog.

"Maybe you'd like to think about Styson slowly torturing us instead? No, I thought not. Listen, maybe we're going to be fine and we'll come out of this in one whole, healthy piece. But there's a good chance we're both dead before the end of the day. Don't you want to explain how you got here? Because otherwise, you're coming out of this looking as bad as them." Goldfield looked like he was about to break down into tears and Lois felt a sting of shame. She didn't want to manipulate the man, he was clearly on the edge of a comprehensive collapse, caught between the safety of his daughter and the lives of an entire city. But they both needed to keep their minds from freezing with terror.

"Maybe you're right," he said, rubbing his face. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"How about we start with today?"

Goldfield took a deep breath and began to haltingly explain what had happened, and as he expanded on his story, his words came more readily, his pauses more infrequent.

It was pretty much what they'd thought. Kate Roberts had been targeted by Styson not only because she had access to information on the plant and its operations but because she had information on the staff. Because her death had taken place in the centre of Metropolis and she worked in an office pushing paper, she was removed enough from the treatment facility that the cops would be unlikely to suspect a connection. She was just a tool, and once she'd been used, she was discarded.

All to find the right person to push. Goldfield had access to all areas of the plant and he also had a daughter who was a single mother and would make a suitable hostage. Susan Goldfield. They'd taken his daughter while she was at home in her apartment with the children. Styson and the others had called Goldfield at work, convincing him not to call the police by torturing her in the background. Styson had threatened to start on his grand-daughter and he had believed him.

Lois wasn't surprised that Goldfield had complied, Styson's enjoyment at hurting women was obvious. Once they'd extracted the scientist's promise to co-operate, they'd taken his daughter from her home, leaving the bewildered children behind. So the Goldfields had picked them up, called in to their daughter's workplace to say she was sick and had never called the police.

"But they want to poison the entire city!" Lois finally protested. "Do you honestly think they'll keep their word and keep her safe?"

"It's not the whole city," Goldfield insisted. "No one should be affected! Don't you think I checked this! It's been in the water for four days now."

"What's in the water?"

"This meteor rock."

Lois stared at him. Smallville meteor rock?

"They had me smuggle into work and release it into the water along with the usual chemicals we use. But it should have no affect on anyone, it's just a rock."

"From space!" Goldfield shook his head vigorously.

"You don't understand, these people are crazy!"

"I've noticed that," Lois snapped.

"No, they keep on talking about people with special abilities. I think there are six of them, including Styson. But one of them is different from the others. I think he was a soldier. But he keeps on talking about freaks and saying…what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because he's not crazy, meteor-infected people are real. And the numbers there must be in Metropolis…"

"You mean, there really are people out there who will be affected?"

"Yes! And maybe they already have been!" She said angrily. Because suddenly the thought of Clark's pale face was at the fore-front of her mind. He'd sworn he hadn't drunk any of the water. But if he had, then that meant… "Wait, you turned the supply off in your house, why did you do that if you thought the water was harmless?" Goldfield flinched and then shrugged weakly.

"I didn't want to take any chances." Lois gave him a look of disgust and tried to control her feelings. She couldn't afford to alienate her source. No matter what they had done, you wrote the story, and you let the reader judge their character. At least that was how the rules were supposed to work.

She had never liked rules very much anyway.

"How did they say the meteor was supposed to affect people?"

"That by ingesting the material their abilities would increase exponentially, until they could no longer conceal them. And they would experience temporary nausea and fevers. Serious enough to send them to the hospital. It would present like food poisoning."

"And then?"

"I don't know." Yes you do, thought Lois. Someone out there wants to pick the infected out of the crowd so they can kill them. Or use them until death would feel like a blessing. Just like Lex. And either Styson felt secure working for those kind of people, or he had a plan in case it seemed like he was turning from employee to target. Or he might be so far out of his tree he didn't care.

"But if they were using you to secretly introduce the rock, then why all this? They'll never get away with this."

"Because it wasn't working. They said it wasn't enough rock, so since I can't smuggle in enough by myself, they came here to do the job properly." Lois sighed with relief. That meant Clark wasn't meteor-infected after all. Or he was and they just hadn't dosed him enough yet. All these people could still be at risk. "They were dressed as cops, they had police cars. I had no idea this was going to happen. I didn't know they would…you have to believe me! I didn't know these people really existed. How could I?"

Lois nodded reluctantly and that seemed to satisfy him for the moment. But inwardly she was raging against the blind ignorance of a supposedly intelligent man. How did he think Styson could kill a woman without touching her? What did he think could be behind all the stories in the papers of people with impossible abilities? And as for the blur…there was a good chance he was one of them. Except all the meteor-infected people she had met tended to have gone crazy with it. And he might be a lot of things but he didn't sound crazy.

No one was prepared to come out and admit the infected existed. How many times had she tried to write a story making a link between the meteor rocks in Smallville and the wild stories that came out of that town? The public might not know but the government had to and men like Lex Luthor were prepared to take full advantage of the information. But so far, the Planet wasn't prepared to run a story claiming ordinary people were being turned into fantastical beings because of exposure to space dust. Some days she missed the tabloid days.

Goldfield didn't want to admit the truth, and part of her couldn't blame him, not when he was complicit in this plot. How often did she use the power of denial to keep her sane? Like writing a news story while she waited to die. Like pretending she hadn't fallen for Clark Kent. "So, tell me about this gang."

----------------------------------------

Clark was running through tar. Every step felt agonisingly slow. The deep breaths he was taking seemed to scald his lungs. He was only a few kilometres from the plant but the concentrated Kryptonite there was already taking its toll. He paused, the long grass around him snapping back as he came back to a human speed. He wasn't sure how much further he could go and every second he delayed, Lois was closer to death.

Chloe had told him she was at the treatment facility and that it looked like Styson and the others he was working for were there as well. She suspected they had used the cars and uniforms they had stolen from the patrol cars lured to find Styson to gain entrance. Whatever their plan was, it was going down now, and they didn't seem to care that there was little chance of escape.

The cops were finally convinced that Styson was no ordinary killer, and that they had to handle the situation with care. But that meant they were outside the main gate, trying to negotiate with the gang for the release of the plant's staff and planning a SWAT entry.

Maybe they would stop them releasing more Kryptonite into the water supply but they might be too late to save Lois. She was in incredible danger around Styson and his appetite for suffering looked out of control. Why else would he be kidnapping women off the streets when he should be keeping a low profile?

Oliver and Bart were inside the plant but Clark knew from painful experience that they couldn't afford to get close to Styson because he would detect them. So they were hanging back until they could find some way to free the surviving workers without drawing his attention. Chloe suspected that proximity to the meteor was making Styson even more powerful.

"Oliver, tell me you have something," Clark said wearily down the line as he called his old friend. How long had it been since he'd spoken to him? Months? It felt like years. His promise to stay away from everyone was officially trashed, and Lois was at the root of it all. Lois and her penchant for inserting herself in the most perilous situations, Lois and her knowing smile, Lois and the feel of her kiss seared on his forehead as she left.

"Lois and some guy in a white coat are in the main treatment room with Styson and three other men. The one with the AK47 is giving the orders but Styson is starting to show his crazy. He wants to kill the lab guy." Oliver was patched into the security system, so he could observe the action at a safer distance.

"Goldfield. Is the Kryptonite still in the room with them?"

"They're about to release it into the feed pipes. After that, ten seconds and it starts to make it's way out into the supply."

"They've already blocked access, the water won't get any further into the city."

"But it means you're not getting within touching distance Clark. Forget it, this time you're benched."

"No Ollie. You or Bart get any closer and he will know. It doesn't matter how fast you are, he got the drop on me okay? I'm not letting you get yourselves killed."

"Lois is in there," Oliver said curtly and hung up. Clark almost crushed the cell phone in frustration. Maybe if things between him and Oliver were better he could persuade the Arrow to hold off but as it was, his word held no sway. Maybe if Jimmy…

He began to run again, the throbbing pain from Kryptonite slowing every step. A few minutes later he had to stop again. He knelt down and tried to get an idea of how far away from the city he still was. The plant was on the Western outskirts of the city, close to the reservoir and he could see the reservoir itself now, surrounded by low-lying hills that formed the natural basin suited to store Metropolis' water. He began a slow ascent up one of the hills until he was high enough up to see the plant, only a kilometre away now. He was sweating, his skin aflame. It was too soon to his earlier exposure for him to handle the radiation and he knew his strength, slowly returning was sapping away quickly. In a few minutes he would be effectively human again and if he went any closer, the draining would be even faster. He clenched his fists, his eyes burning.

He started as the ringing of his phone cut through his despair. It was Chloe.

"Clark, Ollie and Bart are down. Styson knew they were coming, just like with you. He's sending two of the others to go collect them. Once they get hold of them…" She took a shaky breath. "I'm going to call Detective Jones."

"No, he'll…"

"Wait. God, Clark! Styson's knocked them out."

"Who?"

"The others in the gang. They were arguing and…it's just Goldfield, him and Lois in the room now. I'm calling Jones. Stay away. You're in no condition to face him." It was all going to unfold without him and he could do nothing to protect her. If he could just see that she was okay then…

That was when it occurred to him. He had never used his powers in this way before because it was the most unknown of his abilities. But there was nothing to say he couldn't. Hadn't Jor-El said his powers were growing stronger? It seemed impossible but so was doing nothing as Styson murdered Lois.

He located the plant in the distance and found the roof of the treatment room. Narrowing his eyes and looking deeper he saw through the concrete and could see three figures standing. A man shoved another smaller man to one side and grabbed a slighter figure by the throat. It was Lois. He could see the delicate thread running through her tibia where she had broken it as a child. The taller man had to be Styson and he was leaning his head towards Lois' and…he seemed to be kissing her.

His stomach turned as Lois tried to push the man off her. But instead Styson pushed her to the floor and began to gesture wildly. The tiny bones in her hands were clenched tight. He couldn't tell if she was in pain or angry. But Styson was pointing at her now and her whole shape seemed to jerk off the ground.

That was all he needed to see. His eyes burned hotter and hotter until the light burned out of them and seared through the air, over the reservoir and through the roof, hitting Styson square in the chest. He stumbled back and as he tried to regain his feet, Goldfield swung something towards his head. Clark saw the cracks running through his skull instantly as Styson collapsed.

Lois slowly got to her feet and he managed to cut through the surrounding noise to hear the reassuring sound of her heart. It was racing but it was steady.

He watched and waited as Lois called Jones and the police entered the plant. An ambulance was called for Styson and he was taken away with flashing lights. But Clark had seen the damage inflicted by Goldfield. If he survived, he wouldn't be waking up for a while. He began to run back down the hill, his head swimming and made it as far as a corn field on the edge of Smallville before being forced to stop again. He lay down on his back and waited for the exhaustion to pass. When he next opened his eyes, he was looking up into the green hood of Oliver Queen. His expression was concealed in shadow but he pulled down the hood and removed his shades.

"I hear I owe you my life." Clark made a non-committal shrug. "Listen Clark, I want to thank you. I know I'm not your favourite person and the feeling's mutual but."

"But?" He rasped.

"But I have the feeling we might have been doing the same thing these last few months. Trying not to screw up. But I did it again today. And you screwed up the minute you thought you could ignore her."

"That's none of your business." Oliver shook his head.

"Lois is one of the few people left in Metropolis I care about. It's too late to try and cut her out Clark, so just make sure you don't screw it up like I did." He looked away from Clark at the gently stirring golden sheaves around them. "As soon as you're back on your feet I'm out of this. You want to save the city so badly, it's yours. I'm no good at this anymore." He walked off and Clark looked up at the scuttling clouds above him. The sunlight was stinging his eyes but its warm glow seemed to be easing his aching muscles. Then Chloe's face appeared. The buzz of Krptonite around her was gone, so he guessed she had managed to flush it out of her system.

"How did you find me?"

"Your cell of course," she smiled faintly. "Thanks Clark. For a moment I thought…that I was going to lose her again." She knelt down next to him and he put his arms round her. She was trembling. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to lose it like that. I had to make Oliver drive over here I was such a mess." She wiped her eyes quickly. "Are you okay to go home?"

"I got it all wrong Chlo," he said softly, looking at her pained expression. "About leaving, about stopping being a reporter. But…Jimmy was..." She took hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. "I failed."

"No. No. We were both wrong about Davis. And I was the one who convinced you to give him another chance. You were only trying to save everyone. But you can't Clark. I wish you could! I wish he was here! But he's gone, and punishing yourself won't stop the pain. I know." Her eyes were brimming with tears again. "But Metropolis doesn't just need the blur. It needs Clark Kent as well." He thought about the conversation between himself and Kate Roberts. He had been so focused on saving people, trying to save himself, that he had ignored her calls for help. It hadn't been his powers alone that had stopped Styson and the others poisoning the city, it had been working with Lois as a reporter that had led him to this point. "I need Clark Kent. Lois needs you. Even Oliver is going to need you." He held her tight again.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." She looked him square in the eye. "Jimmy Olsen believed you were the blur because he thought Clark Kent was one of the good guys. And he is."

"You really believe that?"

"I do," she said emphatically.

"I don't know how to make this all work anymore," he said.

"Then you'll work out. We can work it out." They were silent for a moment and then she helped him to his feet. "You need to sleep."

"I need to make sure Lois is okay first."

"Oh I wouldn't worry about her," Chloe smiled. "She's already in the news room. I think she'll make tomorrow's edition pretty interesting."

"But Styson hurt her, she should be in hospital!" Chloe shook her head.

"Let her write the story Clark. My cousin got the scoop, she deserves the headline." As they approached the car, they could see Oliver sitting behind the wheel, a distant expression on his face. "What did he tell you anyway? I heard him mention her."

"He told me it was too late to back out now. I don't know what he was talking about." Chloe laughed.

"You have no idea, do you? What's going on with you and Lois?"

"What? What!" Chloe had an expression on her face like he was the biggest fool going, a look she and Lois had down perfectly.

"Oh no, I'm not going to make this easy for you."

"Please Chloe, if there's something I should know…"

She just smiled at him innocently. "You're the reporter, you figure it out."


	17. Chapter 17

aron Bee: Apologies, I missed this off the first time! But I wanted to say thanks for all the kind reviews, the feedback was really helpful in keeping me motivated. This it the last chap otherwise I would have bashed my brains out on the keyboard but I think there's more to play with, so if you like the sound of a follow-up, let me know!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There were good reasons she shouldn't be here. Professionally, when the story moved on, you were supposed to as well. But the people whose story you told couldn't do the same. They were left with the aftermath.

The nurses hadn't told Kate's mother that her daughter was dead but they suspected she knew. Her health had taken a downward turn since Kate had stopped coming. At some level, she missed her and now she was unravelling faster. Her source had died to protect this woman and she was dying without her daughter.

"I wanted to bring the picture back for you Ms Roberts," Lois said as she sat down next to the hunched figure in the wheelchair. She held out the frame, holding the photograph of Kate as a teenager and her mother; they were both glowing with happiness. "They ran it along with her profile. I thought they should know what kind of person she was."

They'd run Kate's obituary on page nine, after the other analyses of the events around the plant. Most of the gang working with Styson was dead, including the vital piece of the puzzle, the man who had hired them and who wanted to unmask the meteor-infected. He was being tentatively named as Lieutenant Jim Thomas, a Gulf vet who had spent some time in Smallville five years ago. It looked like his beef with Smallville meteor alumni could turn out to be personal.

Lois' gut was also telling her that Thomas hadn't been the ultimate force behind the plot but that he was just the man on the ground who could organise the career criminals who he had hired. Where the money had come from to fund the operation, how Thomas had found the men and Styson, were all big questions yet to be answered. As for Styson, after killing most of his partners, he was now a vegetable. The hospital didn't hold out much hope that he'd ever come round. Lois felt fine with that.

Susan Goldfield was still alive. The remaining gang members had revealed her location once they realised they were the only ones left to charge. She was still in the hospital though and Lois didn't need to see her charts to guess what kind of shape she was in. Someone else was following that story and they were welcome to it. Goldfield himself was waiting for the D.A. to make up his mind about what he wanted to charge him with. How his daughter's ordeal was covered in the media would probably influence how serious the charges were. It was hard to swallow but that was how it worked. Some days she could bear that better than others.

A lot of the material she and Clark had prepared had been used, and Maurie Green had even come by her desk to give his congratulations. She hadn't felt the buzz she had with other stories, this one had been to painful in its birth, but she had felt a certain satisfaction. Styson was finished, Kate's death had been recognised as a murder, and people were finally beginning to talk about the meteor-infected rather than just burying their heads in the sand.

She'd achieved even more than she'd set out to, so why did she feel so hollow only 24 hours after her first story had run? So this story had its ugly sides, didn't most of them?

"She loved you very much. I don't think I ever met a young woman like her you know? She wasn't bitter about how things had turned out, she didn't despair. She was so grateful for those good years you had together, just the two of you. I think you must have made her very happy, for her to give you so much love in return." Ms Roberts continued to stare blankly at the wall. She hadn't responded to Lois' presence since she had entered. The nurses had said it was one of her bad days.

Maybe it was because this story couldn't be neatly tied off. Ms Roberts was left alone in the world. Uncomfortable questions were still left around the true nature of the plot. And then there was the nagging memory of Styson's hands on her, his lips pressed to hers. She wanted to be able to shake him off but he was still clinging on. After the blur had called her last night she had alternated between thinking about their conversation and remembering the physical sensation of that murderer's kiss. She had an idea of how to relegate the memory to the past but it wasn't a very wise idea.

When it came to helping Ms Roberts, she had no ideas. It had been naïve of her to think she could offer her much comfort. Only Kate could do that and she was long gone. So she put the picture on the dresser and left the woman with her thoughts.

As she left the building a few minutes later, she saw a familiar figure waiting for her. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you too Lois," Clark smiled at her as she came down the steps outside Sunshine Homes. She rolled her eyes at him.

"I thought you were spending the day with Chloe. You know, an evening spent eating Gummi bears and watching indie movies doesn't make you her loyal friend again." She fixed him with a look that he thoroughly deserved, in her opinion. Chloe seemed a bit calmer now that she was talking to her old friend again but Lois sensed things were far from neatly resolved there either. Under her bright demeanour was a deep well of anger, and she was nervous about the consequences of her cousin trying to ignore it. "Your debt to her is far from paid off."

"She told me you'd be here and I thought we should talk. But I know I owe her."

"Good. Well, since you're looking so contrite, you can walk me back to the office." Clark held out his arm and she linked hers through his, a little surprised at the gesture. They settled into a companionable silence as Lois tried to dispel some of the tension that had built up from her visit with Kate's mother. Last night, trying to work out how to handle the Styson issue she had thought Clark could be the solution but now he was right beside her, it seemed an awful idea. She didn't have a lot of alternatives though; she couldn't bear the idea of stewing in the thoughts of Miles Styson for another day.

She glanced at Clark, who seemed content to walk in silence, looking around at the street and passers-by. He seemed to be enjoying the sight of the city, as if he had been away longer than four days.

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to thank you for sharing your byline with me on some of the articles."

"You helped write them. If it wasn't for you, we would never have got as far as we did. Who knows, they might even have managed to poison the meteor-infected."

"Maybe. They're still running an analysis of the chemicals they mixed the rock with. But since they don't think it would have worked…the whole thing still doesn't feel right to me." Lois suppressed a smile. She had a suspicion that she knew where this conversation was going. And if she was right, Clark would be back where he belonged before the end of the week. "I think someone else was pulling Thomas' strings. There's something we're not seeing. What?"

"Oh, it's just you sound like someone I used to know."

"Who?" He frowned.

"A guy called Clark Kent. Very annoying but he sure had the potential to be a good reporter." Clark didn't seem as amused as she was. "Okay, what is it?"

"I don't expect you to forget how much of an idiot I've been. But I had my reasons, I just want you to know that. And they seemed like they made sense at the time."

"I know." She stopped walking and put her hand on his arm, all too aware of his proximity, his concerned expression, every familiar but horrifyingly unfamiliar part of him. Because she still couldn't turn off this reaction to him when she saw him. It was as if there were two Clarks. One, the sweet bumbling boy who she'd found in a corn-field, all wide eyes and small-town innocence and this different person. This man who had seemed to take the original Clark's place and make her feel disturbing things about a person she thought she had firmly pigeon-holed.

"I'm sorry Lois."

"I know." She was waiting for more and she wasn't about to let him go so easily with a simple apology. Did he think she didn't realise that this was all about Jimmy? All about how the world had seemed turned on its head? He had tried to run from his life because he wasn't sure how to be Clark Kent anymore, as preposterous as it sounded.

"It's just…I can't…" He looked down at the sidewalk for a moment and then back into her eyes again. That piercing gaze that did something slightly quease-inducing to her. "When I was born, my birth parents had a different life planned for me than this. But things changed and I ended up as Clark Kent. It's like I've always had this different destiny out there, a man I was supposed to be, and I thought that…that this life wasn't the one I was meant to have."

Lois tried to keep the dozens of questions she wanted to ask at bay and instead said, "If they loved you, I don't think they could be any prouder of you. Maybe you weren't always Clark Kent. But you are now. And it suits you." He almost smiled at her but then merely nodded. "There is one thing I should say, since we're in a disclosure frame of mine. I may have said something a little out of line to you since I came back from my Lost Weekend."

"That I was an idiot?"

"That still stands Smallville. No. I said that you can't compete with the blur." Clark looked at her confused. "It wasn't my finest moment, okay? But it's not true."

"It's not?"

"No. You may not be out saving lives every night but you are a brave, good guy. And you have saved my skin more times than I can count. The last save can be chalked up to him but I might be relying on you next time to help me. I mean, he may be, magic or whatever but."

"Magic?" He laughed. Lois blushed.

"Or whatever!"

"Lois, I don't think he's Santa Claus."

"You know what, maybe he is, prove differently!" She retorted, horribly conscious of the fact she had just exposed herself to possibly years of ridicule. Had she really said the blur was magic? Magic? She had officially lost her mind. If he hadn't called her last night then maybe she wouldn't have all these fanciful daydreams about him running around her head. And now Smallville was crowing about her temporary insanity. He was so much easier to handle when he was depressed.

"Yeah, I guess Saint Nick decided he was sick of sitting around 364 days a year and decided to take up crime-fighting in between Christmases."

"I'm not even going to listen to this, you know what, the guy is so amazing who's to say he isn't magic! And I'm not sure Santa is magic."

"Wait a second. Do you have a crush on the blur?" She looked away from him, suddenly intent on her cell phone she had pulled out of her pocket. Why didn't she have any messages? She was considering faking that someone was ringing her, maybe she could pretend the blur was on the other end, calling to confirm he was indeed supernatural, and yes, she could quote him on that. Hah, that would shut up the flannel-clad, cow-wrangling, wet-behind-the-ears copy-boy! "Hey, do you?" He sounded suddenly serious. She looked over her shoulder at him. This was a total nightmare, and she needed to do something desperate to avoid this conversation. Maybe talking about what was bothering her wasn't the worst after all.

"Forget about trying to read a woman's finer feelings Smallville, it's not your strong suit. What we should be talking about is the favour you owe me." He frowned at her and she took this as encouragement enough.

"Do you know Styson kissed me in that room?" Clark's face seemed to drain of colour and he shook his head. "I had to say something about his father to get him to stop. I didn't feel very classy using the guy's abusive childhood against him. But I couldn't bear to have him touch me like that."

"I'm so sorry Lois, I didn't…I didn't know."

"How could you have stopped him? It was him, no one else is to blame." She bit her lip hard as the paralysing fear of being trapped with the killer rose again, the feeling of dread, and cold heavy limbs. But he had used his abilities against her in a way he hadn't expected in that room, which was why she had thrown his ugly past at him to get him to hurt her instead. She should have expected it of course. Hadn't Kate's behaviour when she first met him been wildly out of character? A level-headed, cautious woman like that didn't pick a guy up in a club and invite him to her apartment for days. No, Styson had tricked his way into her life. And he had used his powers to do it. Because as well as causing pain, he could excite the nerve-ends pleasurably. She knew a twisted tactic like that would have appealed to his distorted mind. The women he had tricked had initially had their heads spun by his powers, and then he had shown them the other side of his abilities.

He would give pleasure, and then he would give pain. Kate would only have blamed herself more and she knew that part of the horrible fear she had poured into those final emails had been shame. He had made her feel ashamed of herself before she died as well. She could never forgive him that and it meant she had no compunctions about being glad he was out of commission for good.

"When he kissed me, he was using his powers to make it feel good. To mess with me." Clark moved towards her but she put up a stalling hand. "No, let me finish. It could have been terrible but things turned out okay. I'm not torturing myself with what might have happened, okay, I've run across some bad guys before. The thing is…"

"What?"

"He was the last guy to kiss me." Clark was still looking at her uncomprehendingly. "I see I'm going to have to spell this out for you. I want to erase him. To do that I need to replace him. With someone else?" Clark was still looking at her blankly. "With another guy?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"From what I remember of my first impressions, you're definitely a guy. And you are available aren't you?" Lois allowed herself a little smile at the discomfort that transformed Clark back into the original model for a moment. She might be uneasy but she could still handle this kind of situation a lot better than him.

"What about Oliver, surely…"

"Out of town."

"Or…"

"You think I'm going to throw myself at some complete stranger? I need a favour Clark. Kiss me."

"Lois, this is not a good idea."

"Don't worry Smallville, I'll be gentle with you." Was it wrong that she was enjoying this quite as much as she was? She could see now that he wasn't going to be able to do it, so since he wasn't going to help her out, she could at least have a little fun at his expense. And if she didn't tease him, well, he'd probably miss it. "Or are you worried you won't stand up too well in comparison to Queen?" Suddenly an entirely different expression crossed Clark's face. Now he was looking a little dangerous.

"Oh I'm not worried about that. But you were the one who talked about the rules of a professional relationship. What happened to keeping it on the field?"

"So this will be the exception that proves the rule. If you don't think you'll be able to concentrate at work, then I guess I understand…"

"You really are insufferable, do you know that Lane?" He had his arms crossed over his chest.

"Guess I'll have to find someone else," she shrugged but the heavy feeling had lessened. Maybe it was just talking with him that had done it. His presence had this calming effect on her that she hadn't ever really appreciated because usually she was distracted by the stomach-churning, uncomfortable sensations he could also produce. Was she ever going to be able to work this man out? She was supposed to have left him behind when she came back from the future. The blur was supposed to be the man she was focussing on and Clark Kent had walked himself off her list of priorities. But it hadn't worked out that way. As much as her conversations with the blur thrilled her, and the idea of his great destiny awed her, Smallville wouldn't let go of his hold on her.

She couldn't move on to the future where she helped the blur become this inspiring hero when Clark was able to provoke these feelings right here and now.

"You know the new editor was pretty impressed with those stories, you're not going to have any problems getting back into the basement. In fact he made it sound like he already knew you. I don't know how that's possible, I mean, how would you have ever crossed paths with a legend like that! And all those guys saying he's lost it are way off, the only thing coming out of his pores is the smell of the newsroom. Still, he sounded interested in meeting you. And I kinda made it sound like you'd be coming in this afternoon, so it's good you showed up."

"Lois."

"What? Come on, don't pretend you don't want back in. And anyway, how are you going to keep Shelby in dogfood without a paycheck? That dog deserves some proper care after your neglect all these months."

"Lois?"

"The thing I don't get is why did Tess appoint him? Maurie was telling me that the reason the chief's career dive-bombed in the first place is he tried to take on the Luthors."

"The chief?"

"Yeah. It suits him, you'll see. Plus it bugs the hell out of him."

"And why wouldn't you want to do that to your new boss. Lois…"

"So what message is she sending out by hiring him? Is it saying the hold the Luthors had on the company is as dead as them? Or is it that she thinks she can look purer than the driven snow if she puts a campaigning force like that right in the centre of the fold? That woman is up to something Clark, I know it."

Clark took hold of her arm and looked at her with an amused expression on his face.

"You know, I didn't say I wouldn't do it."

"What are…" But before she could finish her sentence, he had put one hand around her waist, and had dipped her backwards. She was dimly aware of a warm arm encircling her and one strong hand holding her head. She felt weightless. And then he moved his mouth to hers and just as quickly as he had bent over her, she was back on her own feet, standing, shell-shocked.

It had been a fairly innocent kiss, objectively. Just lips pressed to lips. Nothing much to report. Except it didn't feel wholesome. It felt…

"Lois? Are you back with us yet?"

It felt…

"Sure. Uh, thanks."

"My pleasure." And he said that so, so _politely_ that she knew he was amused. She looked over at him and he seemed perfectly at ease, as if nothing had happened. But she could see the sparkle in his eyes. Oh no. There was no way he was getting the upper hand this time. This time, she needed to come out on top.

"Of course it took me a little by surprise."

"You didn't let me get a word in."

"Oh no, that's not it," she said breezily. They weren't walking yet, still standing on the sidewalk, only four blocks or so now from the Planet. Traffic sped by, people surged past. It would be lunch hour soon. People from the offices would hit the streets looking for food. But that was all a long way away. No, she was still trying to work out what it felt like. His lips had seemed very soft. Surprisingly soft. Very kissable. But that wasn't it.

"Then?"

He was starting to fidget now, something he rarely did. She knew all his moves of course. Or some of them, she amended, maybe there were some moves she wasn't so familiar with. Once again, he was both good old Smallville and this totally new entity, someone more confident, someone sharper, someone who could make her feel intensely vulnerable with just one look.

"It just seemed like we'd done it before." Clark definitely seemed ill at ease now. She had managed to find the right thing to throw him off. She still had that, right? She still knew the pressure points. "But I guess we have. Maybe some of my memories from that Valentine's Day are coming back. Who knows what might come back to me now?"

But it wasn't that. No, it did remind her of something but she had never remembered what embarrassing things she had done under the influence of that love potion. She was grateful for that. After all, if she was ever going to make a fool of herself like that with Smallville, she didn't want it to be because some messed-up mojo compelled her to.

Not that she'd ever do anything like that again. He couldn't make her that crazy.

Objectively, it was a pretty innocent kiss. But the warm flush she could feel on her skin, the slightly weak feeling in her limbs, like she was sick, all this said it was a different story all together. Subjectively, it was one hell of a kiss. And it definitely felt familiar.

"Well I'm glad to help. After all, we are friends, right?"

"Right. Friends. And what's a little kiss between friends and colleagues? It's nothing." But it wasn't nothing. It felt like something, something terrifying and exhilarating and right. It felt right. "The exception that proves the rule."

"Right, the rules. You know, about those rules, there's something I don't get about Lane's Commandments."

"Like?"

"Lois Lane doesn't care about the rules." She smiled slowly.

"You've finally noticed?"

"It can take a while but yeah, I think I've caught on." She glanced over at him. She suspected they weren't just talking about her reporting maxims anymore. Maybe. Maybe there was space in the future for more than death and heroes. Maybe there was space for this feeling that had expanded in her chest, and rushed up to her head.

"There could be hope for us yet Smallville."


End file.
